


tumblr ficlets

by Daecyan_Shikoba



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, tags for individual ficlets in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 19,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daecyan_Shikoba/pseuds/Daecyan_Shikoba
Summary: tumblr ficlets





	1. those are absolutely captain america pajamas

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to tumblr, and in light of the tumblr nonsense i've decided to back up my tumblr fics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Holy shit, are those  _Captain America pants!?”_ Clint demands, sounding exhilarated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, get together, possessive steve, first time blowjobs, first kiss, captain america pajamas

Steve’s sitting at the breakfast bar reading his newspaper when Tony stumbles into the kitchen, still half-asleep. He’s wearing navy sleep pants and a tank top, and his hair is a mess of curls. He looks so  _soft_ , and Steve’s heart flutters and trips all over itself as he watches Tony grab a cup out of the sink and start the coffee pot on autopilot.

Tony turns, and Steve catches a glimpse of white lettering down the left thigh of the sleep pants. He can’t quite read it, with the way Tony’s leaning against the counter a second later while he waits for his coffee looking pitiful, but Steve  _thinks_  he knows what it says. The possibility that he’s right makes his mouth go dry, and he grabs for his glass of milk.

“Zombie Tony!” Clint shouts as he dashes into the kitchen, much more awake than Steve’s ever seen him on a Sunday morning, laughing.

“F’ck’ff,” Tony slurs, flipping Clint off, and makes an appreciative noise when the coffee machine beeps. He pours himself a cup and moans around his first mouthful.

Steve fidgets on the bar stool, face going hot, and raises the newspaper higher to hide his face.

“Holy shit, are those  _Captain America pants!?”_ Clint demands, sounding exhilarated.

Steve’s fingers clench on the newspaper, and Tony squeaks.

“They are! Oh my god where the hell did you get them? Do they make the rest of us?”

“I - I don’t know, probably,” Tony grinds out, sounding slightly strangled.

“Cap, hey, check these out!” Clint says, and a moment later he’s yanking the newspaper from Steve’s hands.

Tony’s staring at them, face flushed, looking much more awake than five minutes ago. Steve’s gaze flicks down before he can stop it, and sure enough the lettering spells CAPTAIN AMERICA in bold white letters. Above that is a decal of his  _shield_ , and liquid heat pools in Steve’s gut.

“I - I’ve gotta, uh, I have a thing that - I have to go do a thing immediately now, for the rest of the week,” Tony stammers, clutching his coffee against his chest desperately, and darts out of the kitchen before Steve’s mind can make sense of the words.

“Dude,” Clint says reproachfully, rolling up the newspaper and whacking Steve on the top of the head with it. “Go after him or we really  _won’t_  see him for a week, at best.”

“What - ”

“I will tell Natasha you made Tony cry,” Clint threatens, and Steve shakes himself from his stupor.

“JARVIS,” Steve calls out as he jumps up and runs for the stairs, because Tony’s already in the elevator. “Don’t let him lock me out, please?”

He takes the stairs four at a time, careening into the door when he reaches the floor Tony’s workshop is on. He bursts out of the stairwell just as the elevator doors open, and Tony freezes, eyes going wide, when he sees Steve rushing at him. He squeezes them shut, shrinking away, shoulders hunching, a moment before Steve reaches him, and Steve’s heart squeezes painfully.

“Jesus,” he breathes, helplessly, because Tony’s wearing  _his mark_  and it’s doing  _things_  to Steve.

Tony peeks one eye open, then blinks when he sees Steve’s face.

“Uh, S-Steve?”

“Tony,” Steve says, voice rough. “Do -  _Fuck -_ Do you have  _any idea_  what - ” Steve stammers, then thinks  _Fuck it._ He backs Tony up against the wall, fits his hands to Tony’s hips, and leans in until his nose is brushing along the curve of Tony’s cheek.

“Steve?” Tony’s voice is strangled, one hand letting go of his coffee to grip Steve’s shirt.

“You’ve got my mark on you,” Steve growls, the heat in his gut spreading throughout the rest of him, setting him on fire from the inside. “Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you.”

Tony gives another strangled little noise, fingers spasming against Steve’s chest. “ _Yes_ ,  _please_ ,” he whispers, hoarse and low.

Steve groans and fits his mouth over Tony’s, licking at his bottom lip and then into Tony’s mouth when it opens with a beautiful little sigh. There’s a distant shattering noise, and then Tony’s hands are in his hair, fingers gripping tight. Steve presses closer, hands tight on Tony’s waist, thumbs stroking along the jut of Tony’s hips. Tony whimpers against his mouth, and Steve’s hips jerk forward subconsciously, the noise gorgeous and perfect and Steve  _needs more of it._

He trails kisses along Tony’s jaw and down his neck, nipping gently at the skin just under his jaw, and Tony moans raggedly. Steve’s hands flex against Tony’s hips before he moves them, stroking up along Tony’s sides then around and down until they’re cupping Tony’s ass. He presses their groins together tight, rolling his hips, and Tony’s head thuds back against the wall.

“ _Steve_ ,” he gasps, groaning deep in his chest when Steve’s hands move lower and a get a good grip before lifting him. Tony wraps his legs around Steve’s waist, pressing his erection against Steve’s stomach with a broken, strangled little whine.

Steve groans against Tony’s throat, bites down on the juncture of neck and shoulder, pressing Tony into the wall harder. Tony’s legs tighten and he tugs on Steve’s hair, gasping, and Steve pulls back to stare at his slack, pleasure-drunk face. He moves his hands back to Tony’s ass, squeezing the firm muscle, and watches as Tony tosses his head back with a whine.

“Steve, fuck,  _fuck, please_ ,” he groans, trembling in Steve’s arms, and arches back what little he can.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees hoarsely, tapping Tony’s thigh until he gets with the program and unwraps his legs from Steve’s waist. He eases him to his feet, pins Tony to the wall and kisses the breath out of him before slipping to his knees and mouthing at Tony’s cock through the cotton of the sleep pants.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony shouts, shudders, staring down at Steve with wide, dark eyes. 

Steve hums, and unbuttons the front of the pants -  _convenient_ , Christ - with a groan when he realizes Tony’s gone commando. Tony whines, high and thin, as Steve pulls his dick through the nifty opening, wrapping his lips around the tip and flicking his tongue under the head. He pins Tony’s hips back against the wall, thrilling at the whimper that earns him, and works on taking Tony as far into his mouth as he can.

“Oh God, Steve,  _Steve_ ,” Tony pants, hands in fists at his sides, and well Steve just can’t have that.

He hums around Tony, just to hear the groan, and reaches up to grab one of Tony’s hands. He settles it on his head, encouraging, and a moment later Tony’s other hand joins the first, fingers threading through hair and holding on gently. Steve makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat and bobs his head a few times before swallowing around Tony’s dick. Tony gives a strangled shout, fingers tightening in Steve’s hair, and Steve moans.

“Fuck, look -  _God_ , look at you,” Tony groans, tugging Steve’s hair a little, making him moan again, and Tony whimpers. “Oh fuck, I -  _Steve_.”

Steve opens his eyes - and just when had he shut them? - to look up at Tony, gripping Tony’s hips tightly, possibly so tight he’s leaving bruises, and a little thrill runs up his spine at the thought. Tony’s staring down at him, mouth open, pupils so blown there’s only the faintest ring of brown around them, and Steve groans at the sight. He pulls back until the head of Tony’s cock is resting on his tongue, far enough that when he looks he can see his shield just below Tony’s hip.

 _His_  shield, his call sign.  _His_. Steve growls wordlessly and slides his mouth back down Tony’s cock until his nose is pressed into dark, coarse curls, and Tony’s whining high and desperate. The sound is  _perfect_ , and Steve moans in answer, right hand letting go of Tony’s hip to dip into his own pajama bottoms. He swallows around Tony, moans at the feel of Tony’s cock at the back of his throat, and wraps his hand around his dick, squeezing and stroking.

“Steve,” Tony stutters, strangled and breathy and pleading, “Steve,  _please_.”

Steve draws back, breathes through his nose while he suckles at the head, and looks up again to see Tony’s eyes screwed shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip and head thrown back. He grins, satisfied, and teases his tongue along Tony’s slit. Tony cries out, hands tugging at Steve’s hair. Steve keeps it up, and strokes his other hand down Tony’s thigh then up the inside until he’s cupping Tony’s balls through the cotton. He squeezes them gently, then presses his index and middle fingers into the spot just behind them, rubbing, and Tony comes with a startled little gasp.

He swallows what he can, surprised himself, and moans softly as he starts stroking himself in earnest, unable to resist. He comes after only a few strokes, pressing his forehead into the shield printed on Tony’s sleep pants, with a groan. Tony curses softly, shaking, and Steve tries to catch his breath.

“Jesus fuck, Steve,” he whispers hoarsely when Steve sits back on his heels a moment later. Steve grins a little wryly at him, ducking down to press a soft kiss to Tony’s dick before tucking it back into the pajama bottoms.

“So,” Steve says, glancing back up at him, “how would you feel about dinner and a movie tonight?”

“Are - Did - Are you  _asking me out_  after sucking my cock?” Tony demands, almost incredulously, “while you’re  _still on your knees_?”

“Yep,” Steve agrees.

“I - Really?”

“I’d very much like to take you out, Tony,” Steve says, earnest, and pushes himself to his feet. He wipes his hand off on his pants leg, unconcerned, before cupping Tony’s face with both hands. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for weeks, but I hadn’t figured out  _how_.”

“You - ” Tony gapes at him, even as his eyes light up. “You’re  _ridiculous_ , in the best way possible.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a  _fuck yes_ ,” Tony says vehemently, then smirks. “So I take it you  _like_  my choice of pajama pants?”

“I  _love_  your choice of pajama pants,” Steve says, low and deep, and kisses Tony hard.


	2. captured stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello i don’t know what this is but i just needed to get the mental image of a captured star written down and well….here we are?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stony, hurt/comfort, insecurities, established relationship

“Don’t look,” Tony whispers, and there’s a rustle of fabric, and it takes him a moment to understand what Tony means. And Steve looks up from where he’s unbuttoning his shirt, his heart racing because they’re finally here, together, and he doesn’t understand why Tony doesn’t want him to look.

Tony stands there, and his hands are clutching at the edges of his shirt, trembling, holding them together, but Steve’s eyes skipped them over in favor of meeting Tony’s tremulous gaze. The uncertainty there, and the fear, makes Steve’s heart clench and for a long moment he can’t help but wonder if the serum’s finally failed him. But it hasn’t, and Tony’s still there, and all at once it hits him, and Steve’s heart breaks a little because Tony should never look that way.

“Sweetheart,” he says, gentle and soft and anguished, and he walks over to Tony, carefully taking Tony’s hands in his. It’s something he never thought Tony would feel shame for, but then there are a lot of things he once thought that turned out wrong. He should know better than to make assumptions of any kind by now.

“It’s – I know it’s ugly. I mean, it’s not, how can it be?  _I_  made it, of course it’s not! But it’s not exactly something you wanna see sticking out of a person’s chest, you know? It’s grotesque, when you think about it,” Tony murmurs, looking away as he says it, then back up to meet Steve’s eyes.

“My love,” Steve whispers, and maybe it’s too soon but Steve doesn’t think so because they’ve been walking this path towards each other for so long now, “sweetheart, it’s not. It’s  _you_ , it’s part of you, and every piece of you is beautiful.”

“It’s a shining reminder of my past mistakes, my failures,” Tony argues, his voice cracking and trembling.

“It’s proof that you’re alive,” he counters, “and it’s proof that you’ve learned and decided to do something to make amends and make the world a better place. It’s beautiful because it keeps you alive. It keeps you alive so that you can continue to do good in this world.”

He carefully pulls Tony’s hands away from his shirt, and keeps Tony’s gaze as the shirt gapes open just enough to give an unobstructed view of the arc reactor.

“Do you know what I thought, the first time I saw the light shining through your t-shirt and realized that it was a part of you, and that it was keeping you alive?”

Tony shakes his head, trembling, eyes wide and shining and dark and Steve thinks he could drown in them forever. He could drown in them, and if there is a heaven, it would be just like this, with Steve staring into Tony’s eyes, holding his hands, the two of them standing so close together he could count each eyelash or each freckle on Tony’s nose if he could just convince himself to tear his gaze away from Tony’s eyes.

“I thought it looked like someone had captured a star, and pressed it into your chest, to keep you alive, because the universe loved you too much it couldn’t fathom the emptiness in it you would leave behind if you died,” he murmurs. “Then as time passed, all those times I felt lost, I would come find you, and it took me too long to realize it’s because you’re my north star, shining bright and just waiting to help guide me home.”

He bends down, then, and kisses Tony’s brow, his eyes, tastes the salt of his tears as he follows the trails they leave before detouring to Tony’s mouth, his hands coming up to cradle Tony’s head. Tony gasps, and whimpers, and clutches at Steve’s shoulders.

“You gave me a home,” Steve whispers against his lips, and ducks his head further to press kisses along Tony’s jaw, down his neck. “You gave me a place to rest, first, somewhere I could come to when I needed a respite from the rest of the world. But then you gave me a home, and you didn’t even realize it, and suddenly I had somewhere where I was  _just Steve_  the way I never could be since waking up in this century. Somewhere I could be just Steve Rogers, and I didn’t have to be brave, or strong, or pretend that I’m okay.”

He presses a kiss to the skin just above the reactor, and then to the center of it, and he thinks for a moment he can taste what forever must taste like, what it must feel like.

Tony makes a soft, wounded noise, and pulls Steve’s head back up to kiss him fiercely, a desperate biting thing that tastes like coffee and salt. Steve wraps his arms around Tony and holds him close, kissing back, carefully gentling the kiss until they’re just soft presses of lips against lips.

“You did the same for me,” Tony croaks when he pulls back. “You do the same for me.”


	3. "dance with me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 37: "Dance with me!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, fluff, pre-slash

Tony thinks this is, maybe, the first New Year’s Eve he’s actually spent  _at home_  in decades and  _not_  at a party, even one hosted by him. Looking around at the small gathering, Avengers and family, he’s glad he’s here. There’s good music, some how, considering Clint had hacked into the sound system an hour ago, and good food, good drinks. Good people. He’s really, really happy to be here.

Steve sidles over to him, holding up a flute of the sparkling apple juice being served in place of champagne, and grins brightly as he holds the glass in front of Tony’s face.

“Thanks,” he says, taking the proffered drink. He smiles at Steve, a little inquisitively, when Steve drops down on the couch next to him instead of returning to chat with Sam and Natasha standing over by the bar. Not that he  _minds_ , of course.

“You looked lost in thought,” Steve says over the music, answering his unasked question. “I hope it’s all good thoughts. Gotta look to the future with good thoughts.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mm,” Steve hums. “Take it from the guy who took an ice nap and woke up seventy years in the future.”

Tony laughs, startled, and covers his face with his free hand. “Fuck, Steve, who told you you could be funny?”

“Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Stark,” Steve grins, his eyes twinkling. “I was being totally serious.”

“Uh-huh, sure you were. I’m onto you, Rogers.”

“Whatever you say, Tony,” he chuckles, and brightens when the song switches to something he’s familiar with. “Hey, dance with me?”

“Do – What now? What’d you just say?”

Steve jumps up and turns, offering his hand to Tony. “Dance with me!”

“I –  _Me_?” Tony frowns up at him, eyes flicking between Steve’s hand and his face. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure, Tony,” Steve sighs, his smile softening a little. “I’d really love it if you’d dance with me.”

“Well, alright,” Tony agrees, and takes Steve’s hand, letting him pull him up off the couch and over to the dance floor.

There’s a light blush on Steve’s face as he wraps an arm around Tony’s back, his other hand taking Tony’s. He looks almost flustered as they start moving with the music, and Tony wonders what the hell is going on.

“Have you been enjoying your evening?” Steve asks, after a moment of awkward silence, once he’s stopped visibly concentrating on dancing.

“Mmhmm,” Tony hums, smiling bemusedly up at him. “It’s the first New Year’s Eve I’ve spent at home, with people I actually like.”

Steve huffs a little laugh. “Certainly sounds better than spending it with people you don’t like.”

“It is,” he agrees.

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, just moving with the music and each other, enjoying the moment. Tony lets his head rest on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve pulls him closer, all gentle hands and graceful moves. Tony wants to ask Steve if someone taught him how to dance or if it’s just one of those things that came naturally, but the thought that it might ruin the mood keeps his mouth shut.

The song changes. Steve doesn’t let go or pull away, keeps them moving instead. Tony’s a little surprised, but, hey, he’s not going to complain. Not when he’s, maybe, exactly where he wants to be.


	4. sappy christmas fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE ENJOY THIS DISGUSTING SAPPY CHRISTMAS FLUFF!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony/bucky, fluff, christmas, pre-slash, team as family

Bucky wakes up Christmas morning, and it takes him several long moments to figure out  _where_  he is, and why, but when he does, he smiles, soft and pleased. It’s early yet, so the number of people actually awake, he suspects, will extend only to Steve and Natasha. He’s tempted to just stay in bed, where it’s warm and soft and safe, comfortable, but his stomach growls, impatient, and he sighs. Then smiles.

He can make breakfast, for everyone. He. He likes the idea of that. Of cooking breakfast for these people who’ve somehow become his family. He very much likes the idea of it.

So, he gets up and grabs a quick shower, and pulls on the sweater Tony’d given him for his birthday. The others might make fun of him for it, but he  _likes_  this sweater. He likes the way Tony’s expression goes soft and pleased whenever he wears it, too. That’s – yeah that’s definitely a big part of it.

Steve’s in the kitchen, when he finally wanders out of his rooms, wearing a fucking S _anta hat_  and humming Christmas songs as he reads the paper. He looks up when he sees Bucky, and he beams at him, fond, exuberant and bright, pleased.

“Mornin’, Buck! Merry Christmas!”

“I see why you get compared to a golden retriever, now,” Bucky mumbles in lieu of answering properly, but smiles affectionately because he can’t help it. Steve’s excitement has always been  _infectious_ , Bucky remembers that. “Merry Christmas to you too. Who the hell stuck you in a Santa hat?”

“Nat,” Steve says with a shrug, mouth quirking in a bemused smile. “She’ll probably come after you with antlers or an elf hat. Who knew she’d be so enthusiastic about Christmas?”

Bucky gets into the fridge, piling what he needs in his arms. “You guys’ve been a team for how long? Shouldn’t you already have known that?”

“Oh, well – this is our first Christmas together, as a team,” Steve replies, sounding a little sheepish. “We didn’t really – stick together, after the Battle of New York. Didn’t move into the tower together until after – after SHIELD fell. Nat, Sam, and I were out searching for you, still, though, so.”

“No wonder you’re so cheery,” he says, resolutely doesn’t think about the months he spent running from Steve, and the months he spent in the tower, locked up in his rooms and snarling like a feral beast every time someone who wasn’t Steve or Nat or – oddly, still, to everyone not him – Tony came by.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Whatcha doin’, there?”

“Gonna cook breakfast for everyone.”

“Oh! That’s – that’s real nice, Bucky. Thor and Bruce eat just as much as we do, though, so heads up.”

“Gotcha,” Bucky grunts, and carries everything over to the counter. He can feel Steve’s eyes on him while he gets started, but eventually Steve goes back to reading his news paper, and Bucky relaxes.

At some point Nat flits in, shoves a pair of reindeer antlers on him, grins at him, and flits right back out. The kitchen fills with the scent of bacon, and eggs, and french toast. Pancakes, and his ma’s special oatmeal recipe. Steve, when he sees it, when he  _smells_ it, gives Bucky a surprised, happy look.

He’s just putting everything on plates when Clint and Bruce wander in, Bruce making straight for his tea pot and Clint straight for the coffee pot. Sam comes in next, wide-awake, also wearing a Santa hat, and in a godawful ugly sweater. Bucky never,  _ever_  wants to hear him tease him for wearing the sweater Tony gave him again.

“What the hell smells so good?” Tony demands just as he’s carrying the plates to the table, and he zeros in on the empty spot beside Steve where Steve’s already set his cup of coffee.

“Bucky made us breakfast,” Steve says happily, and nudges his shoulder against Tony’s. “He even made his ma’s special oatmeal.”

“Thank you for making us breakfast, Barnes,” Clint says around his coffee cup, slurping it down as he plops in the seat beside Bruce. Bruce huffs, fondly, and flicks his shoulder. “Sorry babe but  _coffee_.”

“I don’t know why I try,” Bruce sighs despondently, though there’s affection in his tone, and turns to Bucky. “Thank you for cooking, it looks delicious.”

“Thank you.” Bucky smiles, a little flustered, and glances down at the floor briefly before retreating back to the stove to get the oatmeal.

Natasha comes in, then, with Thor trailing after her, jovial and proudly showing off his own set of reindeer antlers. Nat walks around the table, plopping elf hats on Bruce and Clint, and another pair of antlers for Tony. She looks pleased as she takes a seat between Clint and Sam, and Bucky can’t help the happy smile he sends her.

“Presents after breakfast?” Clint asks.

“Yep,” Steve agrees, and beams at Bucky again. “Thank you, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky mumbles, face going hot with all the attention, and sets the oatmeal in the center of the table, plopping a spoon in it before taking his seat on Tony’s other side.

“Thank you, James,” Tony murmurs, barely audible over the happy chatter and clinking dishes as everyone talks and serves themselves some food, and reaches out, wrapping his fingers around Bucky’s left hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “It looks delicious.”

“Thanks,” Bucky manages, and feels his heart skip a beat, two, three, when Tony smiles warmly at him. “Just – wanted to make breakfast for my family.”

Tony’s eyes, somehow, get brighter, and softer, and the corners crinkle with his smile.

“This meal is delicious! Worthy of the halls of Valhalla!” Thor exclaims. “Thank you for preparing our meal, James!”

“Yes, thanks Barnes, it’s surprisingly delicious,” Sam agrees.

“I can’t believe your sweater hasn’t put anyone off their appetite,” Bucky says.

“I’ll have you know this is a  _fine_  sweater!” Sam protests. “Natasha bought it for me.”

“What the hell were you thinking, ‘Tasha?”

Sam huffs and sticks his tongue out at Bucky. “Like you can even  _talk_ , wearing that monstrosity,” he says, tone light and teasing.

“Hey!” Tony yelps, affronted. “Are you  _casting aspersions_  on my  _taste,_ birdboy 2?”

“It’s a swell sweater,” Steve assures, and Tony beams at him briefly. 

“I would never insult your sense of taste, Stark,” Sam says, grinning. “It’s just weird, putting Barnes in a sweater covered in little Iron Mans.”

“You’re just jealous they don’t make a sweater covered in little Falcons,” Bucky shoots back.

“They don’t make sweaters covered in little Hawkeyes, Hulks, or Black Widows either,” Clint says sadly.

Nat chuckles and leans into Clint’s side. “Could you imagine a sweater covered in little black widows, Clint? Someone would screw it up, and it’d be the  _actual_  spider instead of my symbol.”

“I’d wear it,” Sam says, shrugging.

“As would I!” Thor declares. “I would wear sweaters covered in all of my teammates.”

“Aw Thor,” Tony coos, smiling brightly.

“Hey, when’s Pepper and Rhodes getting here?” Bruce asks.

“For dinner,” Tony answers, looking so  _happy_ , that his friends will be here for the holiday. “Pepper and Happy wanted the morning for themselves, new couple and all that jazz. Rhodey’s with his family. Oh, Sharon and Maria will be here, too.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Bucky says softly, pleased for Tony, pleased to see Tony looking so  _happy_. It’s  _nice_. All of this is nice. Bucky’s just – he’s so  _happy_  to be here, happy to be sharing in this.

This – this  _thing_  he’d never get to have for himself. Not again, not ever again, but he’s got it. He’s got Steve, and he’s got these new friends, this new  _family_ , and he’s just so.

He’s  _happy_.

“No Fury?” Clint asks, but it’s joking, really.

“Nah, he said he was too busy ‘delivering fucking presents to the fucking children of the world’ on Christmas Eve, so he deserved to sleep on Christmas day. Good ol’ Saint Nick,” Tony replies.

Not long after, breakfast is finished, and Tony and Steve help him carry all the dishes to the sink while the rest bolt for the Christmas tree set up in the living room. Tony and Steve both drag him away from them, once they’re all the sink, refusing to let him start washing them. Bucky makes a face, but allows them to drag him into the living room, feeling a little guilty just leaving the dishes.

“Stop that. You cooked, that means you don’t have to do the dishes,” Tony quips, a warm, calloused hand pressing on Bucky’s shoulder until he sits down on one end one of the love seats. Steve sits at the other end, and drags Tony down to sit between them.

It’s so  _warm_ , and there’s Christmas music playing in the background, soft, old-sounding. Bucky thinks, actually, that this is Bing Crosby. He shoots Tony a look, but he understands, he does, when he sees the soft happiness in Steve’s eyes. He’s so  _fond_ , and Bucky wonders when the hell he’s going to make a damn move on Tony.

“Well since  _one_  of our Santas seems  _preoccupied_ ,” Sam says, with a little waggle of his brows that has Steve flushing, and crouches down to grab the first of the gifts, “I’ll just pass these out myself.”

“Sam,” Steve sighs, moving to get up to help, but Sam waves a hand at him.

“S’cool, Rogers, sit your ass down. Relax. Enjoy snuggling with your boys.”

“ _Sam.”_

“It’s alright, Steve,” Tony murmurs. There’s a light flush on his own face, which Bucky might – might have marveled at, but he’s too busy trying to process Sam’s words.

They make – they make very little sense. What does that even  _mean?_  Sure, Steve’s sweet on Tony. Real,  _real_  sweet on Tony. Everyone knows that. Well, everyone aside from Tony, it seems.  _Your boys_ , well, that means more than just Tony, doesn’t it? That means Tony  _and Bucky_ , doesn’t it? It’s just the three of them on the love seat, after all.

“This one’s for Thor!” Sam exclaims, and passes it over to him before returning to pick out the next gift.

Bucky doesn’t pay any of what’s going on much attention. He’s still reeling. A little. Somewhat. It makes, well, it makes a sort of sense, now, when he  _thinks_. He can remember some of his past, and he can remember how he  _felt_  – how he feels. How he still feels, about Steve. And how he feels about Tony. Not that. Not that that’ll go anywhere, but. Well.

“You alright, James?” Tony asks softly, concerned, touching his hand lightly. “Hey, don’t pay Sam any mind. He likes giving us a hard time, thinks he’s funny like that.”

Tony looks kind of pained. Steve’s a dipshit.

“Steve’s a dipshit,” he says, and Tony blinks at him in shock. Steve jerks and turns to frown at him. Bucky meets his eyes, then flicks his gaze back to Tony’s.

“Uh –” Steve starts, uncertainly, just as Sam shoves a small box in his hands.

“Barnes is right,” he says, unapologetically, and goes back to the tree.

“Just ask him out already, punk,” Bucky clarifies, and accepts the present Sam hands him.

He turns his attention the bright wrapping paper, amused, red and gold and covered in the Iron Man helmet. He removes it carefully, and then stares in quiet awe when he gets the box opened. It’s his – it’s his fucking  _coat_ , the one he wore in the War, just as blue and heavy as he remembers, with the little patches on the shoulders. He’d loved this coat. He never thought he’d see it again.

But – of  _course_  it’s not the same coat. He knows that, he does, but this is just as – it’s just as good as the original thing. It’s  _perfect_ , and he thinks there are tears in his eyes as he pulls it from the box, holds it up to stare at.

“Do you like it?” Tony asks softly, hesitant, chewing on his bottom lip. There’s a blush spreading across his cheeks, a wariness and hope shimmering in his eyes.

“Do I – ? Tony, I  _love_  it,” he rasps, and pulls it to his chest, hugging it. “ _Thank you_.”

“I didn’t – Steve helped,” he stammers, the blush darkening. “He helped me get it right. It’s from the both of us.”

Bucky turns, smiling, watery, wide, bright and happy. “ _Thank you_ ,” he repeats hoarsely, looking at them both so they know he’s talking to them both, then lets the coat go, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Tony, fingers catching in Steve’s sweater to tug him up against Tony’s back.

Steve doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms back around them both. Tony’s trembling a little, between them, probably, maybe, a little overwhelmed. Bucky just tightens his arms around them, burying his face in the crook of Tony’s neck. He doesn’t know how to express how he’s feeling right now. Or he does, but he’s not ready to say it. He hopes this hug will suffice for now.

God, but he loves them.

Tony’s arms tentatively wrap around his waist, finally, relaxing into their hold with a soft sigh. When he lifts his head a bit, he can see Steve’s eyes, bright, shimmering, so full of affection.

A camera shutter startles all three of them, and they turn as one to glare at Natasha, a pleased grin on her face, camera pointed at them.

“This is going on the mantle,” she decides, looking down at the digital display.

“There is no mantle,” Tony points out, and he’s not trying to wriggle his way out of their arms.

Good. Bucky doesn’t want to let him go. He’s pretty sure Steve doesn’t want to let him go either.

“You’ll just have to build one, then,” Nat says, shrugging, and returning to opening up her presents.

At some point a small pile of presents had been left in front of them, and Bucky wonders exactly how long they’d been just sitting there hugging. Holding each other. Long enough for Sam to have finished passing out everyone’s presents.

He decides he doesn’t quite care. He decides, in fact, that those presents can sit there a little longer. Tony and Steve are both relaxed, their arms still around him, and he’s content to remain where he is. They seem pretty content with it, too.


	5. a little swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hey, are you still doing the fic title thing? If you are, would you consider: A little swing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, childhood friends, get together, first kiss, love confessions

“You know, I’m pretty sure what you’re doing is called trespassing,” Tony comments idly as he walks over to where Steve’s sitting on one of the swings. The swing set is old, the blue paint peeling, and it’s probably Tony’s most favorite thing. He built it when he was six (probably one of Howard’s worse ideas, letting him play with power tools unsupervised. At least until Jarvis found him and refused to leave him alone) and Steve helped him finish it. The top beam had their names written in faded white paint, done in Steve’s neater six-year-old handwriting.

Steve grins up at him, eyes twinkling mischievously, and Tony thinks about kissing him for the hundred thousandth time. “Nah, see, I have special permission from the owner to come over whenever I wanna.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” Steve hums, and starts swinging gently. The chain and wood creaks and groans with each movement, and Tony laughs softly, heart swelling. He joins Steve, sitting on the only other swing.

(They only ever needed the two. It was  _their_  swing set. Nobody else was allowed on it.)

“Do you remember when I punched Hammer in the face?” Steve asks after a few minutes of them swinging in comfortable silence.

Tony snorts. “Which time, Steve? You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“The first time.”

“I – No, when we were, what, five?” Tony chuckles, twisting a bit to watch Steve. “You got in so much trouble for that.”

“Worth it,” Steve shrugs, letting his swing come to a stop. He turns so he’s facing Tony, and smiles brightly. “I got you as my best friend, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, ducking his head to smile down at his knees.

“I can’t believe we’ve been best friends for almost fifteen years,” Steve continues. “It feels like I’ve known you since birth. Like we knew each other in our past lives, too.”

“You’re such a sap,” Tony mutters, heart flipping and butterflies exploding in his stomach, and feels his face go hot. “I know what you mean, though. I feel the same way, even if I don’t really believe in reincarnation.”

Steve hums, swaying sideways on the swing to knock their shoulders together. “I’m really glad you still have this swing set, Tony.”

“As if I would ever get rid of it!” Tony scoffs, affronted. “It’s ours, how could I get rid of it?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly, and sways sideways again. He reaches up at the same time, grabbing a hold of the chain on Tony’s swing to keep them close, and reaches out with his free hand to cup Tony’s cheek.

Tony stares at him, eyes wide and heart racing. “Steve?”

“You’re the most important person in my life, Tony,” Steve whispers, stroking his thumb along the curve of Tony’s cheek bone. “You have been for as long as I can remember. It’s why I’ve been so scared to ever say anything, too afraid of ruining our friendship but –”

“Steve – What are you – ?”

“Have you ever thought about what it’d be like if we were  _together_? If we were a couple?”

“I –” Tony swallows, and reaches up to wrap his hand around Steve’s wrist. “Yeah, yeah I have. For a long time.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Tony nods, and Steve smiles, so bright and happy it steals Tony’s breath. He leans forward, tilting his head a little as he fits their mouths together. Tony gasps softly into it, startled despite himself, and lets go of Steve’s wrist to wrap his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, holding him there. Steve’s hand moves from his face to cradle Tony’s head, and he tangles their legs together as he deepens the kiss.

It’s nothing like what Tony imagined. It’s better than anything Tony imagined. He never wants to stop kissing Steve. 

When the kiss ends, Steve leans up to press his lips to Tony’s forehead, murmuring “I love you” against his skin.

Tony’s heart skips a beat, two, three, and he wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, pressing his face into the crook of Steve’s neck. “I love you, too, asshole,” he mumbles into Steve’s throat, smiling.


	6. sweet and sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lazyamara asked: For the fic title thing: sweet and sour :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony/bucky, pre-slash, crack, nerd outrage, troll steve

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED STAR WARS YET!?”

“Just haven’t had the chance to,” Steve says, widening his eyes and looking all contrite. Bucky has to bite back the incredulous snort. Steve Rogers is the least innocent, doe-eyed, pouty-faced punk Bucky’s ever met. The little shit.

“THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE AND A TRAVESTY WHICH WE MUST FIX RIGHT NOW!”

“Why is he so…?” Bucky asks quietly, turning to Rhodes.

“Extra? Dramatic?” Rhodes grins, laughing. “He’s always been like this. Rogers egging him on, though, that’s pretty great. Has he always been a troll?”

“Yes,” Bucky snorts, grinning. “And he thinks Tony’s adorable when he gets like this.”

Rhodes groans, covering his face with his hands. “Doomed.”

Bucky’s grin grows. “Stevie’s right, though. Tony’s unbelievably adorable when he’s outraged.”

“DOOMED,” Rhodes sighs, sounding just as dramatic as Tony does across the room.

“RHODEY CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS? STEVEN GRANT ROGERS HASN’T FOUND  _THE TIME_ TO WATCH STAR WARS!” Tony shouts, waving his arms. He turns, pointing at Steve’s face. “AND LEMME GUESS, YOU HAVEN’T SEEN STAR TREK EITHER?!”

“Steve no don’t,” Bucky whispers, a chill going down his spine.

Steve tilts his head to the side, furrowing his brows, looking the perfect picture of innocently confused. “Isn’t that the Star Wars sequel?”

Tony’s scream leaves Bucky’s ears ringing.

“You fucking little shit,” he mutters, and Steve grins smugly, sending him a wink.

The look of absolute despair Tony levels Steve with once he’s stopped screaming makes Bucky want to wrap him up in blankets and coo at him. It’s having a similar effect on Steve, too. Bucky can see his resolve wavering. After a long moment of that stare, Tony spins on his heel and leaves for his bedroom, muttering all the while.

Rhodes bursts into laughter the moment he’s gone, wheezing and wiping tears from his eyes. “Captain America is a horrible class A troll,” he gasps.

“That look,” Steve mutters, coming over to sit next to Tony on the couch, “made me feel a little like I ran over his puppy.”

“I cannot believe I have failed you so horribly,” Tony says sadly, re-entering the living room with an old movie projector in his arms. “We are fixing this mistake right now.”

He doesn’t even notice Rhodes laughing so hard he’s curled forward, pressing his face into his knees. Bucky isn’t sure what that means for them. Either way he has to admit, Steve just got them several hours of Tony’s undivided attention. So, really, he figures he can’t complain.

Even if his ears are still ringing a little.


	7. pre-serum dom steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wanna shout about pre-serum dom!steve/sub!tony so here have this au ramble i guess? could be a BDSM au or whatever IDK BUT HERE HAVE MY THOUGHTS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RAMBLE, steve/tony, pre-serum steve, dom steve, sub tony, bdsm, get together

listen, the first time tony kneels for steve, he doesn’t  _know what to do_. steve, i mean. not that he doesn’t Know what to do but that he’s. too shocked to do more than  _stare in wonder_. because he never thought. he never thought for a moment that tony would want to kneel for  _him_.

and it’s not just because steve’s this scrawny, scrappy, ornery ‘JUST WATCH ME’, ‘FIGHT ME’ guy who is used to being passed over by people, but because tony’s got  _so many trust issues_. not that steve  _blames_  him. not that he knows all the reasons why, either, of course, but. he understands that tony’s not going to give somebody  _that gift_  unless he trusts them with  _himself_. there are so few people he trusts with himself. 

so when steve and tony hang out at steve’s apartment (decided to watch a movie after grabbing a bite to eat at the park) ( _they’re not dates sam! they’re not. i’d know if they were!!_ ) (they were dates, steve), and he comes back into the living room from grabbing them something to drink and finds tony kneeling next to where steve usually sits on the couch steve just. Stares. his fingers might go lax on the cans of soda in his hands, he might  _drop them_  in his shock.

tony just stares up at him, face flushed, but eyes bright and determined. his heart is pounding, he’s fucking  _terrified_  he’s misread this, that he’s reading too much into things, that steve doesn’t  _want him_ , but goddamn is he tired of dancing around this. he wants to kneel for steve and call him Boss (or some other honorific) and  _let go_ , give steve control. he wants this  _so fucking much_. 

so yes, steve’s shocked. slack-jawed, bug-eyed  _stunned_. also on fire in the best way you can be, once his brain fully processes what he’s seeing, heat pooling in his stomach, spreading through him and warming him impossibly. because, his brain is  _screaming,_ that’s tony kneeling  _for him_. there’s no way this isn’t deliberate. tony wouldn’t be there, kneeling where he is, waiting for steve, if he didn’t  _mean_ to be. steve knows this, tony knows steve knows this.

( _okay fine so they were dates shut the fuck up, so how’s natasha, sam, hmmm?_ )

“tony?” steve croaks because yeah they both  _know_  but steve still needs to hear it. he needs tony to tell him. “what’re you doing?”

and tony normally would snark a little a la “what’s it  _look_  like steven?” but this is  _Not_  the time for that. so he meets steve’s eyes, takes a breath because he’s still  _nervous_  okay, and says “this is me saying that i want this, steve, if you want it.”

and,  _god_  but what is steve supposed to  _say_ to that? because of  _COURSE_  he wants! he wants so much, so  _badly_ …he’s just. never considered what to do if tony wanted it, too.and now he’s  _mucking it all up_  because he’s just  _staring_  and tony’s starting to look uncertain and steve would very much like to punch himself in the face

“I DO” he finally manages to blurt, too loud and a little too aggressive if the way tony jumps is any indication. “i do,” he repeats, softer. “i do want it. i’ve wanted - i wanted  _you_  for so long, with or without this, but i’ve definitely wanted this. with you. ah. i just - i just never thought you wanted  _me_.”

“how could i not want you?” tony asks in genuine confusion. “i’ve been in love with you since the moment you punched tiberius stone in the face because he called me a slut”

“……oh,” steve says, clears his throat, trying to pretend like he’s not suddenly floating on cloud nine. tony  _loves him_. “i love you too,” he tells him, because he has to make that clear  _right now_. he refuse to give tony the chance to doubt his feelings.


	8. never too late for fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lazyamara asked: Oh gods I know I'm a little late, but if you're still doing fluff starters how about "you are my new pillow" with WinterIron? Your fluff is so cute by the way! I love it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bucky/tony, established relationship, fluff, golden girls

Tony finds Bucky in the living room, watching tv with Sam, Nat, and Steve. He’s the only one sitting on the couch, and Tony capitalizes on this fact, flopping down across the empty cushions. Bucky twitches, relaxing and moving his arms from his lap in silent offer.

“What’re you watching?” Tony asks, wiggling until his head’s propped up on Bucky’s thigh.

“Natasha wanted to watch  _Golden Girls_  and I told these two numskulls the ladies are from their generation.” Sam snorts, dodging the kick Nat aims at him.

“I like Sophia,” Bucky says, grinning. “Reminds me of my Ma. Except Ma wasn’t Italian.”

Tony smiles up at him, reaching over to grab Bucky’s hand and lace their fingers together, settling it over his chest. He loves hearing tidbits about Bucky’s past like this. Shows how much progress he’s made. 

“You comfy over there, Tony?” Steve chuckles, glancing up from his sketchbook as he flips it to a new page.

“Of course I am,” Tony say, “James is very comfortable.”

“Glad I could be of use,” Bucky says dryly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Always,” Tony smiles, pulling Bucky’s hand up to kiss the back of it. “You are my new pillow.”

“Hm,” Bucky hums, his other hand coming up to card his fingers through Tony’s hair. “Seems fair. Only if you’re  _my_  pillow.”

“Obviously!”

“You guys are disgusting,” Sam complains good-naturedly.

“You’re just jealous,” Tony shoots back, turning and nuzzling his face into Bucky’s stomach. “If you stopped being such a chicken-shit you’d have mutual pillow rights with Rhodey.”

“If you boys don’t shut up I will strangle you in your sleep,” Nat says. “Except for Tony. I like him too much to strangle him in his sleep.”

Bucky chuckles, lifting Tony’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “It’s because he looks so cute while he’s sleeping.”

“I am not,” Tony protests, rolling back onto his back to pout up at Bucky.

“Aw doll, but you are! Everyone thinks so,” Bucky smiles, leaning forward to kiss Tony, dropping kisses on his forehead and nose before meeting Tony’s mouth.

“Hmph,” he mumbles, muffled against Bucky’s lips, and kisses back. 

A moment later a throw pillow smacks into their heads and Bucky jumps back with a startled yelp, scowling over at Steve, and Tony bursts into laughter. The other four join in after a couple seconds. Natasha has to restart the episode by the time they’ve all calmed down.


	9. hair braiding fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i prompted myself a fluffy hair braiding because i couldn't resist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bucky/tony, established relationship, fluff

“Tony,” Bucky grumbles sleepily, batting at Tony’s hands. “What are you doin’?”

“Shh,” Tony chastises, batting at Bucky’s hands right back. “Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

“Why?”

“Your hair is really soft after you wash it,” he replies, combing his fingers through the strands. “I like it.”

“Oh, alright,” Bucky sighs, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. “This feels nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” Bucky hums, eyes closing. “Guess I like havin’ my hair played with.”

Tony chuckles softly and leans forward to press a kiss to the nape of Bucky’s neck. “Well, good, I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” he murmurs, and begins parting Bucky’s hair. “I’ll just have to start playing with your hair more often, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bucky slurs sleepily. “Definitely.”

“Is this putting you to sleep, honey?” Tony teases as he starts the braid.

“Shush you, it feels good,” he mutters around a yawn.

“I’m glad,” Tony says. “I’m really glad you trust me enough to fall asleep while I’m doing this.”

“A’course I trust you, doll,” Bucky mumbles, reaching behind him to pat Tony’s thigh affectionately. 

Tony makes a soft noise, and he leans forward to wrap his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. He kisses the side of Bucky’s neck, nuzzling into him, and squeezes Bucky. “I love you, honey.”

Bucky turns in Tony’s arms to get his own arms around Tony, tugging him into his lap. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmurs, trailing kisses up Tony’s jaw until he reaches Tony’s mouth.

“Mm, I’m glad,” he mumbles into Bucky’s mouth. He pulls back after another moment, pouting. “I gotta start over on your braid, now.”

“That’s okay, baby,” Bucky chuckles, kissing Tony once more before turning back around. “You have free reign to play with my hair whenever you want.”


	10. "you smell really nice"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: WinterIron w/quote "You smell really nice"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bucky/tony, established relationship, fluff

Bucky wraps his arms around Tony’s waist from behind, pressing his nose into Tony’s hair. “Mm, you smell really nice, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing the back of his head.

Tony grips Bucky’s wrists and leans into his chest. “You’re a flatterer,” he mutters, grinning. “I smell like my workshop.”

“You sayin’ that can’t smell nice?”

“Well, no,” Tony wrinkles his nose. “But not many people enjoy it.”

“Hmph,” Bucky huffs, nuzzling Tony’s hair. “They’re fools. ‘Sides, I’m allowed to flatter my fella, ain’t I?”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees with a soft sigh, leaning his head back against Bucky’s shoulder. “Sure are. In fact, I highly encourage it. You say the sweetest things.”

“Well I gotta, my sugar deserves only the sweetest things,” he replies, kissing Tony’s jaw. “I don’t think anyone’s been sweet to you the way you deserve.”

“Shut up,” Tony mumbles, blushing. 

Bucky hums, turning Tony around to kiss him properly. “Nope,” he mumbles against his mouth. “I’m just tellin’ it like it is. But that’s just fine, because  _I_  have ya all to myself.”

Tony grumbles wordlessly, leaning into Bucky and tucking his face into his neck. “Yeah, you do.”

“Aw honey,” Bucky coos, cupping the back of Tony’s head. “You’re so cute when you get all shy on me.”

“You’re the worst,” Tony grumbles, contradicting himself in the next second by lifting his face up and pulling Bucky into a kiss.

“Whatever you say, doll,” Bucky replies, grinning. “Doesn’t stop you from bein’ adorable. Let me take you out for lunch?”

“Yes,” Tony smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners the way Bucky loves. “Where’d you have in mind?”

“Steve and I found this little diner when we were out on a run the other day,” Bucky says, lifting a hand to cup Tony’s cheek, brushing his thumb across Tony’s lips. “Looked like a nice place to eat.”

“Sounds good. Give me a bit to get cleaned up?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Bucky murmurs playfully, “if you get cleaned up and come back smellin’ even better than you already do, I don’t think we’ll make it to lunch.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tony huffs, leaning up to kiss Bucky. “I wouldn’t be opposed to not making it to lunch.”


	11. blanket sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Winteriron or Stevetony “Here, let’s share the blanket.” :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, fluff, team as family, get together, first kiss

Tony stumbles up from the workshop during  _Search For Spock_ , looking confused when he sees everyone in the living room. Steve twists around and smiles at him, beckoning him over. There’s an empty seat between Bucky and Steve, and he moves the blanket so Tony’s not sitting on it.

“I stopped by earlier to let you know we were starting movie night,” Steve whispers as Tony settles onto the couch. “You were pretty deep into what you were doing, so I asked JARVIS to inform you.”

“Sorry,” Tony mumbles, yawning. “Was working on upgrades to everyone’s uniforms.”

“It’s okay, Tony,” Steve murmurs fondly. “I’m sorry we started without you. Clint insisted.”

“It’s okay, I like the whale movie best.”

“Whale movie?” Bucky whispers, confused, and Bruce snorts.

“The fourth one, it’s about whales,” he explains.

“Oh.” Bucky frowns.

“Shush,” Steve says, “watch the movie.”

“We  _were_ ,” Bucky grumps.

“I’m cold,” Tony complains.

“You’re cold?” Steve asks, instantly worried, and Clint groans loudly. He shoots him a glare before turning back to Tony. “Here, let’s share the blanket,” he says, and shakes the blanket he’d been using out before spreading it over the both of them.

Tony makes a small, happy sound, and snuggles closer to Steve. Bucky shoots him a knowing look, and Steve flushes even as he puts his arm over Tony’s shoulders. Across from them, sitting in the armchair, Natasha smirks and holds her hand out to Clint, palm up. Clint grumbles wordlessly and slaps a five in her palm.

“We all settled now, can we get back to watching the movie?” Clint whines, scowling at Nat when she laughs.

“Not our fault you’re more interested in betting on us than paying attention to the movie,” Tony says with a smirk, snuggling even further into Steve’s side.

“Please stop,” Steve mutters, face burning.

“Aw Steve,” Tony coos, leaning his head against Steve’s shoulder and looking up at him with a fond smile. “They’re a bunch of awkward weirdos who don’t know how to show their support in a way that’s not starting a betting pool. Don’t you remember the betting pool Nat started up about when Bruce and Clint would start dating? Or the betting pool about Nat and Sam?”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky chimes in, grinning. “We’re just trying to show you we support you and Tony.”

“Exactly, man, we support you,” Sam adds.

“I haven’t even managed to ask him out on a date!” Steve blurts, and Tony gapes up at him. “Uh - ”

“Wait, you  _want_  to ask me on a date?”

“Oh my  _god_ ,” Clint groans, slapping a hand over his eyes. “I should have left my hearing aids out, holy shit.”

“Yes,” Steve squeaks, swallowing down the nerves. “Yes, I want to take you on a date. If you want to go on one, with me?”

“Absolutely, more than anything,” Tony says, beaming, and leans up to press a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“Congratulations, my friends,” Thor declares, smiling brightly, “I am pleased to see you two come together, finally. But now can we watch this most compelling saga of love? Admiral Kirk has just stolen a vessel to go seek out his beloved.”

“Yeah,” Steve mumbles, wrapping his arm fully around Tony’s shoulders and pulling him as close as he can without pulling him completely into his lap. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy having Tony sitting in his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bruce and Sam pass Nat five dollars each.


	12. caught in the act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Could you write 32 from Sweet affectionate moments meme with stevebuckytony, please?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony/bucky, established relationship, fluff, breakfast in bed

“Shhhh, he’s gonna  _hear us_ ,” Steve whispers, kicking Bucky in the leg when he snickers as they sneak back into the bedroom they share with Tony.

“Only if you keeping ‘ _whisperin’_  like that you punk,” Bucky hisses back.

They both freeze when Tony snuffles into the pillow and blinks his eyes open. He frowns, adorably confused, and glances around until he spots Steve and Bucky standing at the foot of the bed holding a silver covered tray each. He makes a soft, questioning noise, and Steve bites his tongue because  _God_ that’s adorable.

“What’re you fellas doin’?” he slurs, voice thick with sleep.

“We wanted to surprise you,” Steve says softly, holding the tray in his hands up a little.

Tony’s brow furrows, and he pushes himself up fully. “Did I forget an anniversary or birthday or something?”

Bucky snorts, and walks around the edge of the bed to set the tray in his hands on Tony’s lap. “No, baby, we just wanted to do somethin’ nice for our sweetheart.”

“We were hopin’ we’d get everything set up before you woke up,” Steve adds, moving around the other side of the bed. He sets the tray on the nightstand and pulls the cover off to set to the side before sitting down and scooting beside Tony, settling back against the headboard.

“Hmm, yes,” Tony hums, amused and fond, and leans against Steve’s shoulder. “You maybe should’ve tried to be a little quieter, honey.”

“Told you,” Bucky snickers, and climbs onto the bed. He settles in front of them, cross-legged, and reaches out to grab one of the plates. “Steve’s always been shit at sneaking.”

“Nat told me he’d make a horrible spy,” Tony nods.

“You guys are jerks, I don’t know why I love you,” Steve grumbles, smiling, and twists to grab the glasses of juice on the second tray he’d been carrying, passing one to Tony and Bucky before grabbing his own. He settles back, putting his arm around Tony’s shoulders.

Tony grins, snuggling closer, careful not to jar the tray still on his lap. “But you do love us.”

“You betcha,” Steve murmurs, still smiling, and presses a kiss to his temple.

Bucky leans up and over the tray to kiss them both. “And I love you both, too.”

“Saps,” Tony smiles, their favorite smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “You’re both incorrigible saps, and you’re lucky I love you.”


	13. 23. seeking shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: could you do 23. for stony pls? :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, angst&hurt/comfort, implied/referenced violence to/against children [NO DEATH THOUGH I PROMISE], get together, first kiss

Everything is too loud,  _too much._ Steve just wants to curl up in a ball in his bedroom at the tower, wants everything to just  _stop_  for a few hours. His head - his  _everything_  hurts. A pervasive, full-body thing that has nothing to do with physical injury…and yet, he feels almost numb. Maybe he’s still in shock.

God, but the  _children_.

“Steve?”

Steve flinches, clenching his jaw, and takes a deep breath before turning to face Tony. Tony, who looks just as raw and heartbroken as Steve feels. This mission has been a clusterfuck.

Tony glances around the empty landing platform of the helicarrier before meeting Steve’s eyes. “What’re you doing out here, Steve?”

“S’too loud,” he murmurs, shoulders hunching. “It’s quieter out here. Nobody asking me if I’m okay or telling me there was nothing more I could do.”

“Ah,” Tony clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest, and chews on his lip for a moment. “Do you want to be left alone?”

Steve considers him, watches the way he shivers in the chill breeze. He doesn’t want to be around - well… He wants to be around Tony,  _just_  Tony, but he doesn’t know how to  _explain_ that. If he can explain it.

It makes him feel vulnerable in a way he’s not quite used to, and until Tony followed him out here he hadn’t even realized that Tony’s presence was something he wanted. It’s a revelation he maybe wasn’t quite prepared for. He’s not expecting Tony to make it  _better_ , because nothing can really do that. He’s seventy years in the future, where wars still wage, crueler and deadlier and grayer than ever.

“No,” Steve croaks, when Tony starts looking nervous and uncertain, and he tries a reassuring smile that feels too forced and plastic to be reassuring. “No, stay, please, I just. It’s fine, if it’s - if it’s you, it’s okay.”

“Alright,” Tony murmurs, brows furrowing, and closes the last few feet of distance between them to lean against the wall beside Steve, so close their shoulders touch. 

For a moment, Tony’s body heat is almost too much, but Steve can’t help it when he presses closer to that heat. It’s distracting and lovely and reminds him that he’s  _not alone_. Twenty minutes ago he’d wanted nothing  _more_  than to be alone, to be by himself with his thoughts and misery and guilt. Now, the idea of Tony leaving is terrifying.

The idea of Tony not by his side is… It  _aches_ , deep in his chest. He needs Tony by his side always.

“I don’t know that I could ever do this without you,” Steve confesses softly, before he can think better of it, staring out at the darkening sky. The engines keeping the helicarrier in the air are quiet, a soft rumble and whooshing whir of air. He wonders idly how long it took Tony to design them to be so quiet.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony says, voice twisted with shock and disbelief and self-deprecation. “You do just fine without me, Steve. You don’t need me.”

“I do,” he argues, licking his lips, palms sweating and a strange ball of nerves settling in his gut not unlike butterflies. “I do need you, Tony. You keep me sane.”

Tony scoffs, and Steve finally looks at him. “I am the last person anyone would ever describe as the one keeping them sane. Usually it’s the  _opposite_  of sane.”

“Well, I’m not just anyone,” Steve says, frustration edging his voice. “Tony, you keep me grounded. You - You’re my  _lodestone_. Sure maybe I could do this, lead the Avengers, be  _this_ , on my own, but I don’t  _want to_ , Tony. I need you by my side.”

“You -” Tony swallows, turning to watch Steve with wide, startled eyes. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious,” Steve murmurs, and watches the emotions play out in Tony’s eyes. Something fragile settles, an emotion Steve can’t quite name offhand but looks  _familiar_ , like he’s seen it before.

“Hate to tell you this, Cap, but that’s, ah, historically, you know, a terrible idea,” Tony mutters, glancing away. “Just, you know, as a warning.”

It takes a moment, but then Steve remembers exactly where he’s seen that look before. It’s been  _years_ since he’s seen it, not since their first year knowing each other. Not since  _Pepper_.

The thought that he - Steve can’t even contemplate it. The idea is too - God, it just fills him with too much  _hope_. Hope he has to beat back, remind himself that it doesn’t necessarily  _mean_  what he wants it to mean. 

“I’ve been told, historically speaking, that I’m known to have and follow terrible ideas,” Steve jokes, and feels a blossom of warmth bloom in his chest when Tony chokes on a laugh.

“You’re such an ass,” he chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

“I’ve been told that, too,” Steve agrees, and turns back to the empty landing platform.

Silence slips in, wrapping around them, and it’s peaceful if solemn. He doesn’t feel quite so off-balance anymore. The guilt and grief and anger are all still there, but the feelings aren’t strangling him the way they were an hour ago.

“Steve,” Tony says, after a little while longer, breaking the silence with a sad voice. “Steve, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admits, tilting his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes. “We’ll figure it out, we always do.”

“Public opinion has always been tenuous at best,” Tony murmurs, strained. “They’re going to want  _someone_  - They’re going to blame somebody. They’re going to want someone to rip apart.”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Steve replies, voice a little harsher than warrants. It’s not Tony’s fault, and he bites his lip, angry with himself. “The only people who they should be blaming are the criminals.”

Tony laughs, humorless, and there’s a small vibration against the wall, like Tony’s knocked his head back against it. “The public is fickle, Steve, you know that. They’re gonna say we didn’t do enough. Steve - God, they were  _children_.”

“I know,” Steve says, hoarse, and inhales sharply. His eyes burn with tears, hot and sharp and too much and not enough all at once, and he tries to blink them away. The news has already started covering the fight, and all Steve can see when he closes his eyes against the tears is the news footage. No deaths, sure, but  _so many wounded_.

“I could,” Tony starts, soft and edged with too many emotions, “I could take the heat. The public likes tearing into me; I’m used to it.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve snaps, twisting to glare at Tony. “You did everything you could to  _stop it!_ This was nobody’s fault and I won’t let you crucify yourself for us!”

“Steve, c’mon, we both know it’s got to be me,” Tony says, placating. “I’ve weathered worse, even  _before_  I became Iron Man.”

“ _No,”_ Steve growls, reaching out to grab Tony’s shoulders. “If the public wants to blame somebody, they’re gonna have to blame us  _all_. We stand together on this. United.”

Tony swallows, eyes boring into Steve’s. “I don’t think you’re supposed to speak for everyone, not on something like this. Democracy, you know? We should put it to a vote. I’ll make sure everyone knows I volunteer as tribute.”

“Damn it, Tony,” Steve sighs, deflating a little, and lets his head fall forward until his forehead is resting against Tony’s shoulder. “I can’t just let you take the fire alone,” he mumbles.

“Steve,” he sighs, and a hand comes up to cup the nape of Steve’s neck, his other arm wrapping around Steve’s waist in a loose hug. “I appreciate it, really. I really, really do, but you don’t have to protect me from the media and public opinion. I’ve been under their scrutiny my whole life, and a good majority of it was not pleasant happy times.”

Steve lets his hands drop to Tony’s waist, clutching at him tightly and turning his head to hide his face in Tony’s neck. Tony tilts his head, resting his cheek on top of Steve’s head, and tightens his hold. Steve thinks that maybe he shouldn’t be getting so much comfort from this embrace, but he can’t pull away. He has Tony in his arms, he’s in Tony’s arms, and this is the only place he’s wanted to be for quite a while.

Tony’s fingers thread through Steve’s hair, running through the short strands soothingly. “It wasn’t your fault any more than it was mine, Steve,” he murmurs into the silence. “I won’t let them take you to the slaughter, either.”

“Well I guess we’re at a stalemate then,” Steve mumbles against Tony’s throat.

“Steve,” Tony sighs, soft and pained, and Steve tightens his grip.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, shifting so he can look Tony in the eye. “I’m the commanding officer, here. It’s  _my responsibility_ , never mind that it was my call. I’m not going to let you punish yourself for something that’s  _not your fault_.”

“Steve, you stubborn jackass,” Tony snaps, eyes flashing as he meets Steve’s gaze. “I’m not going to let you punish yourself, either! Fuck them and fuck your commanding officer bullshit! We’re  _not_  the military, we’re our own independent entity. There is no commanding officer. There’s you, and me, as team leaders and examples to the rest of the team, but we’re  _a team_. If you won’t let me take the heat for this, I’m sure as hell not going to let you do the same damn thing. If you think, for even a  _second,_ that the rest of the team will let you be their martyr… And what the hell happened to  _together_ , huh? What happened to  _they’ll have to blame us all_?”

_I’m in love with you_ , Steve thinks, his heart loud in his ears. 

“Why do you think they’d be anymore willing to let you martyr yourself for them?” he asks, voice soft, and watches the way Tony’s gaze flickers, pained. “I’ve said it, you’ve just said it - we’re a team. All of us. I’m not the only one who’ll fight you on this. They care about you, too.”

Tony’s quiet for a long moment, before sighing, soft and a little resigned. “Because they’re practical,” he says. “Nat and Clint, they’re practical. They know someone’s going to have to, and they know I’ve got the most experience. Bruce’ll object, but he wouldn’t fight my logic. Thor’s still off-world, and your buddy Sam would be more than up for it if it means keeping the heat off of you. We put this to a vote, we know what’ll happen.”

“You really think that,” Steve breathes, and it  _hurts_ , that realization. “God, Tony, you really think that.”

“Hey,” Tony frowns, confused. “Hey, it’s fine.”

“It’s  _not fine_ ,” Steve whispers, voice hoarse and ragged. “How badly have we all - look at how badly we’ve  _failed you_ , Tony! As a team, as  _your friends_! For you to ever be able to  _believe_  that?”

The look on Tony’s face guts Steve, tears through him and leaves him feeling ravaged. Breaks his heart. He squeezes his eyes shut, and tilts his head down until their foreheads are pressed together. Tony’s hands slide down Steve’s arms to cup his elbows, his breaths soft and ragged against Steve’s chin.

“Steve -” Tony mumbles, trailing off as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Steve tightens his grip on Tony’s hips, drawing in a shaky breath. “How about we make a deal,” he says, keeping his eyes closed, afraid of what he might find in Tony’s eyes. Afraid of what he might reveal.

“Let’s make a deal, Shellhead,” he continues after another moment, “You let me be your shelter against this shitstorm on its way, and I’ll let you be my shelter.”

“… _Steve_ ,” Tony croaks, and brings his hands up to cup Steve’s face. “Steve, please look at me?”

It takes him a moment, but he does. Lets his eyes open, hesitantly, and meets Tony’s gaze. They’re standing so close, their faces bare centimeters apart, but Steve doesn’t pull away and neither does Tony. He’s not entirely sure what it is he’s seeing in Tony’s eyes; he just knows that it steals his breath.

“Steve, what exactly are you saying, here?” Tony asks, so quietly Steve almost doesn’t hear him.

“I’m saying…” Steve murmurs, after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m saying I want to be your shelter against all the bad shit you go through. I’m asking you to  _let me_  be that for you. Your safe haven. You’re already mine, became mine when I wasn’t looking.”

Tony lets out a soft, shaky breath, stroking his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks as he stares into his eyes. “Steve, I -” he starts, pauses and licks his lips nervously, and takes a fortifying breath. “I’m going to kiss you, now.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and a second later Tony’s pushed up onto his toes and pressing their mouths together in a soft kiss. Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and he kisses Tony back, hands moving to his back to pull him flush against Steve’s body. Tony makes a startled little noise, like he thought Steve wasn’t going to kiss back, like he thought Steve was going to push him away, and lets his hands move up into Steve’s hair, holding his head as the kiss deepens.

They break the kiss a short while later, breathing heavy and shaking a little. Tony tucks his face into Steve’s neck, hugging him tightly, and Steve presses a kiss to the top of Tony’s head. His heart is thundering in his ears, drowning out almost everything but the sound of Tony’s voice when he says,

“You’ve always been my safe haven, Steve.”


	14. they were there for that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i’m watching a documentary about the panic caused by orson welles performing war of the worlds on the radio in 1938 and it struck me that steve and bucky would probably have been listening to it, and i’m wondering if they’d been listening from the start therefore knowing that it’s fiction or if they’d tuned in after the show had started (consequently missing the announcement that this is fictional) and therefore thinking that it’s real
> 
> AND NOW I WANT FIC WHERE IN THEIR POP CULTURE CATCH UP TONY MAKES THEM WATCH WAR OF THE WORLDS AND STEVE AND BUCKY TALKING ABOUT HEARING THE BROADCAST BY ORSON WELLES IN 1938

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony/bucky, preslash, scifi, reminiscing, orson welles' _war of the worlds_

“Sci-fi tonight,” Tony declares, grinning, and thrusts a large bowl of popcorn at Steve and Bucky.

“What  _kind_  of sci-fi?” Bucky asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Tony heads for the luxurious sofa in the middle of his penthouse.

“Aliens!” Tony exclaims, excited. “ _Actual_  aliens, not Asgardians.”

Steve sighs, looking fond as he follows Tony to the couch. “Not  _Star Trek_ , right? Bucky hasn’t caught up yet.”

“Traitor!” Bucky grumbles, kicking Steve’s foot as he passes by to flop onto the couch on Tony’s other side. “I’ve been busy.”

“Nope. I’ve decided on the staple alien invasion movies for tonight,” Tony says. “We’ll start modern and go backwards, mostly because Rhodey is an  _absolute sucker_  for classic alien invasion movies and he can’t be here tonight.”

“You really want to watch movies about  _aliens invading the earth_?” Steve huffs, an affectionate grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Tony makes an affronted noise. “Of course! Human perseverance! J! Start with  _War of the Worlds.”_

Bucky chokes on his mouthful of popcorn. “Run that by me again?” he wheezes.

“ _War of the Worlds_ , came out in 2005,” Tony says slowly, looking concerned. “You okay there, James?”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky mutters, staring at the television. “Can’t believe they turned that into a  _movie_.”

“Me either,” Steve agrees. “I can’t imagine it’d be half as good on the screen.”

“Definitely not,” Bucky nods. “Not anything like The Shadow.”

“The fuck are you two babbling about?” Tony frowns, turning his head between them.

“Buck and I listened to  _War of the Worlds_  when CBS had it on the radio,” Steve says, “1938. October, I think? It was pretty amazing.”

“Mm, you remember Erma? She thought it was real,” Bucky chuckles.

“Oh! Oh, right, I forgot about that radio broadcast. One of the maids when I was growing up saw me reading the book and she told me about listening to the performance on the radio, hah,” Tony settles further into the couch. “You guys listened to it?”

“Bucky loved the radio dramas,” Steve replies, grinning. “He was a big fan of  _The Mercury Theatre on the Air_.”

Bucky reaches around Tony to smack Steve on the shoulder. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t like it either! You didn’t miss a single episode!”

“You guys should tell me about listening to Orson Welles narrate  _War of the Worlds_ ,” Tony decides, waving a hand at the screen. “We can watch the movie later.”


	15. 19. "Hey, can I hold your boobs for a sec?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: 27, 35, and or 37 for the writing prompts? You can pick and choose if you want or just use whichever ones into one drabble. (And if you wanna do a crack one 19?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, crack, pre-slash

Steve’s just putting the finishing touches on a small painting of Natasha and Clint getting a piggyback ride from Hulk when JARVIS informs him that Tony’s looking for him.

“Is he in his workshop?” Steve asks, carrying his paintbrushes over to the sink.

“He is,” JARVIS confirms.

“Tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes, please,” he replies, rinsing the brushes out and leaving them to dry before washing his hands. He debates stopping to make them some sandwiches - it’s lunch time and he’s certain Tony hasn’t done more than snacked since breakfast, if not longer. Then he realizes,  _this is the perfect time to ask him on a date_. 

A lunch date.

He can  _do_  this. He’s Captain America.

The elevator takes him down to Tony’s workshop, quick and smooth as always, and Steve smooths a hand down his t-shirt nervously before walking up to the glass doors to the workshop and putting in his code. The door opens and JARVIS dials down Tony’s music for him automatically. The decrease in volume catches Tony’s attention, and he spins around on his chair to grin almost manically at Steve.

“Steve!”

“Tony,” Steve greets, uncertainly. “How long have you been awake?”

“Mm? Don’t remember, too busy,” Tony mutters, turning around to grab something off one of the tables. “Hey, can I hold your boobs for a sec?”

“ _What_ ,” Steve squeaks, flushing.

Tony turns back around, holding a swathe of fabric up, and pauses when he sees Steve’s face. “Steve? What’s wrong?”

“I - I - You, uh. Nothing,” Steve stammers, clearing his throat and shifting on his feet. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Are you  _sure_?” Tony presses, looking concerned and then guilty. “What’d I do?”

“You didn’t do anything!” Steve says hastily. “You didn’t do anything wrong, stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking.”

Tony narrows his eyes, looking unconvinced. “I either did or said something, what was it?”

“It’s nothing, Tony, honestly,” Steve assures him, giving himself a mental shake because  _damn it all he knows how Tony gets when he’s like this_. “What’re you working on?”

“New uniform design,” Tony exclaims, enthusiasm replenished, and holds up the fabric once more. “I just wanna double check your measurements, ‘specially around your barrel of a chest.”

Steve blinks, fondness swelling up behind his ribs, and he grins. “Well okay then.”

Tony smiles wider and closes the distance between them. He tosses the fabric over one shoulder and grabs a measuring tape from over the other. Steve hadn’t even noticed it.

“Arms up, soldier,” Tony says lightly, and Steve obliges him.

“You know,” Steve murmurs, while Tony’s winding the measuring tape around his chest, “if you really wanna hold my boobs, you gotta take me on  _at least_  three dates first.”

Tony makes a small, strangled noise, and a blush spreads across his cheeks.


	16. 3. A Tired Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: 3. A Tired Kiss - Steve/Tony please. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, established relationship, fluff

Steve’s working on a cartoon drawing of Bucky and War Machine shooting targets when Tony stumbles into the living room, a cup of coffee clutched in his hands like it’s something holy. To Tony, it probably  _is_. His hand stills, watching Tony out of the corner of his eye as Tony collapses onto the couch with a weary groan.

He looks exhausted. Worn down,  _beaten_  down, and it makes something ache deep inside Steve. Makes Steve want to pluck the coffee from Tony’s hands and herd him off to bed, wrap around him under blankets until he just  _sleeps_. But this thing between them is still so new and fragile, and Steve’s afraid of pushing it.

“Evening, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, and bites his lip when Tony startles and nearly drops his cup. “Sorry, sorry.”

“S’fine,” Tony mumbles and rubs a hand over his eyes before slumping sideways into Steve’s side. “What’s  _sad_  is that I saw you sitting there.”

Steve huffs, trying and failing to hide his grin. “When’s the last time you slept?”

Tony frowns, thoughtful, thumb stroking along the rim of his mug. “What day is it?”

“Okay,” Steve grimaces, setting his sketchbook aside, and pushes up off of the couch. He turns to Tony and grabs the coffee cup out of Tony’s hands, ignoring his indignant squawk, and wraps his free hand around Tony’s left wrist. “C’mon, you need sleep.”

“No, nope, that’s a negatory,” Tony denies, but he doesn’t fight Steve when he pulls Tony to his feet. Doesn’t even fight when Steve drops the mug off on the coffee table and tugs Tony towards the elevator for his penthouse. In the elevator, though, Tony perks up a little.

“Don’t even think about it,” Steve says as the doors slide shut. “Penthouse please, JARVIS.”

“Indeed,” JARVIS acknowledges, sounding approving.

“Steve, c’mon, I’ll be fine. I have work I have to get back to, I don’t have time for sleep!”

“You need  _sleep_ ,” Steve counters, reaching out to wrap his arm around Tony’s shoulders, pulling him in against his body. 

Tony grumbles, nuzzling into Steve’s neck, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. “Sleep is for the weak.”

“Funny,” Steve murmurs into Tony’s hair, “I was under the impression sleep was for all living beings.”

“Hmph. Like I said, sleep’s for the weak.”

Steve chuckles softly, kissing the top of Tony’s head. “Do it for me?”

“Are you  _manipulating_ me, Captain?” Tony teases just as the doors open onto the penthouse. “Steve, seriously, I don’t have time. I have half a dozen projects I -”

“Tony,” Steve interrupts with a sigh, then shifts and scoops him up into his arms. “You have more time than you think, baby,” he murmurs, carrying Tony through the penthouse.

“I guess,” Tony mumbles, snuggling into Steve. “As long as you stick around?”

Steve tightens his grip, looking down to meet sleepy brown eyes. “Of course.”

“Good, very good,” Tony sighs happily, and cups the back of Steve’s neck to tug him down into a slow, languid kiss that steals the breath from Steve’s lungs. He slumps down against Steve’s chest after a moment, smiling softly. “Sleep best with you there, anyway.”

Tony’s fast asleep by the time Steve reaches the bed. He sets Tony down, gently gets him out of his jeans and under the comforter, and strips down to his boxers before crawling into the bed, spooning up against him. Tony murmurs wordlessly, snuggling back into Steve’s chest.

“Sleep well, darlin’,” Steve whispers, kissing the back of his head.


	17. 27. accidentally sleeping in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: 27. Accidentally Sleeping In - Steve/Tony please. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, established relationship, fluff

It takes several moments for Tony to drag himself out of the last dregs of sleep, feeling entirely too warm and comfortable for his attempts to be effective. It takes him a couple more moments to realize  _why_  that is, and he buries a ridiculously  _sappy_  smile in his pillow. Steve grumbles in his sleep and shifts, curling closer into Tony’s back, arms tightening just slightly where they’re wrapped around him.

The display on the window says it’s nearly ten in the morning, and Tony huffs out a little surprised sound. He can’t believe he slept so well last night. Mostly, though, he can’t believe Steve’s  _still_  sleeping. Normally Steve’s up and out of bed well before now.

Tony shimmies a bit, testing Steve’s hold, then wriggles until he’s facing Steve. He looks so peaceful, and Tony absolutely doesn’t want to wake him up. These last few months have been hard on him, on them all, but especially on Steve. It’s no wonder Steve’s still asleep, honestly.

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupts Tony’s thoughts softly, clearly trying not to wake Steve as well. “Ms. Potts would like to remind you that you have a lunch meeting with members of the board today.”

“Damn,” Tony sighs, trailing light fingers through Steve’s hair. “Do I gotta?”

“Yes,” Steve slurs, eyes blinking open.

“Spoilsport,” Tony pouts, leaning in to kiss Steve’s brow, unable to resist.

Steve hums, fingers clenching in the fabric of Tony’s sleep shirt, and pulls him flush against his body. “G’mornin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tilts his head to catch Tony’s lips in a chaste kiss.

“Mm, morning to you too, honey,” Tony smiles, trailing his fingers along Steve’s shoulder and down his arm. “You slept in today.”

“Oh,” Steve hums, brow furrowing thoughtfully. “Guess I needed it.”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, and snuggles against Steve as tightly as he can. “You did. I’m glad you slept in.”

Steve shifts a bit so he can hold Tony closer, nosing along the top of Tony’s head, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I was supposed to meet Bucky for breakfast.”

“Master Barnes inquired after you,” JARVIS interrupts again, “and informed me to let you sleep when I relayed that you were still asleep at the time.”

“Such a jerk,” Steve murmurs fondly, and Tony laughs softly, presses a kiss to Steve’s throat. “Well he is.”

“He’s a jerk for telling J to let you sleep in?” Tony teases, pressing another kiss to Steve’s neck. “The horror.”

“Hmm,” Steve sighs, and buries his face in Tony’s hair. “S’nice. I should sleep in more often, huh?”

“Definitely,” Tony agrees. 


	18. 24. slow dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: 24 + winteriron, please?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bucky/tony, get together, first kiss, first dance

“You should ask him to dance,” Steve says, coming up to stand beside Bucky, a drink clutched in his hand.

Bucky grunts and tears his gaze away from Tony laughing with Pepper and Natasha across the ballroom. The guest list for this charity event is smaller than normal, which Bucky is eternally grateful for, but that hasn’t kept people from coming up to  _him_. It’s surreal, and Bucky just wants to go back to the Tower. Hide away somewhere warm and safe. Maybe Tony’s workshop, while he’s busy creating new and amazing things that steal Bucky’s breath.

“He won’t say no,” Steve needles, nudging him gently with his elbow, and Bucky glowers.

“Sheesh, who’re you trying to murder with your eyes?” Sam asks, coming up on his other side.

“You,” Bucky mutters petulantly, even as his eyes are unwillingly dragged back to Tony, his gaze softening as he watches Tony bow over Sharon’s hand before sweeping her into a dance.

“Yikes,” Sam makes a face. “I’m gonna go see if T’Challa wants to dance.”

“Have fun Sam,” Steve laughs, and slings his arm over Bucky’s shoulders. “C’mon Buck, why don’t we grab some air?”

Steve steers him out onto the balcony and Bucky goes over to lean against the railing, dragging in the crisp winter air. Steve leans next to him, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the ballroom through the doors. Bucky keeps his gaze firmly fixed out onto the lights of New York.

“I meant it,” Steve says after several minutes of silence. “Tony wouldn’t turn you down.”

“It’s not that simple, Steve,” Bucky sighs, finally turning around. Tony’s dancing with Rhodey, now, head thrown back as he laughs at whatever Rhodey’s just said. He spots Natasha holding Pepper close, and Clint and Bruce partially hidden over by the bar. Sam and T’Challa are dancing not too far away from Tony and Rhodey.

Steve heaves a frustrated sigh. “It is that simple, Bucky.”

“It’s  _not_ ,” he insists, clenching his teeth and fighting down the irrational urge to kick Steve in the shins. “I want more than one dance with Tony.”

“Pretty sure Tony wants more’n one dance with you,” Steve mutters, but straightens up. “All right, fine. I think we’ve been here for long enough, don’t you? I’ll go make our excuses to Pepper and Tony, and we can duck out.”

“Steve,” Bucky protests immediately, frowning. “You don’t have to do that!”

“You’re my friend, Bucky,” Steve reassures, smiling. “You’re not comfortable, and I’m kind of tired anyway.”

“…Fine.”

++

Around midnight Bucky wanders out to the communal kitchen, hoping Bruce still has some of that tea he’d introduced Bucky to when he first came to the Tower. The floor is dark and he’s trying not to make noise, but then there’s a soft murmur from the couch in the living room and Tony’s head peeks over the back of the couch. His hair is a mess, like someone’s been running their fingers through it, and the thought that it could be  _anyone’s_  fingers kills Bucky.

“James?” Tony says, frowning, and JARVIS helpfully turns the lights on low.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, trying not to wince.

“Feeling okay?” Tony asks, concern lacing his voice, and gets up. He’s still in the suit he’d been wearing, and Bucky’s mouth goes dry. Again.  _Christ_.

“Of course,” Bucky says, shoving his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It was your first official public appearance,” Tony replies, walking over to Bucky until he’s within touching distance. “And you left before I got to talk to you. I was looking for you to check in with you when Steve found me and told me you two were coming back to the Tower.”

“Oh,” he blinks, tries not to stare at Tony’s mouth. Bucky wants to put his hands on Tony’s hips, hold him still and kiss him until his lips are swollen and his face is flushed. He wants  _so much_ , he doesn’t know what to do with all these feelings.

“Yeah,” Tony agrees, tilting his head a little, brow furrowing.

“Thanks,” Bucky blurts, hands clenching in the fabric against his stomach.

Tony blinks, then smiles. “Sure,” he says, and bites his lip, watching Bucky thoughtfully. “I was a little disappointed you left, actually.”

“What? Why?”

A blush spreads along Tony’s jaw and cheeks, and Bucky stares in shock. He can’t think of a single time he’s ever seen Tony  _blush_. It’s, well, it’s  _something else_. Bucky wants to see it every day for the rest of his life. Wants to  _make_ Tony blush like that every day for the rest of their lives. Wants to know how far down it goes, too, while he’s at it.

“Well,” Tony declares, after a beat, “I’d been hoping for a dance.”

Bucky feels his own face heat up, and he blinks a couple times. “You… You wanna dance with me?”

“Ah, yeah, yep, yes I do,” Tony nods, and there’s a shy little smile now. Fragile.

“Oh,” Bucky swallows, glancing down at his hoodie and sweats. “Uh, well we could. We could still have that dance. Now. If you - if you don’t mind what I’ve got on.”

“Why the hell would I mind what you’re wearing?” Tony asks, confused, then his eyes widen. “Wait, you? You’re - you want to dance with me? Now?”

The hope in Tony’s eyes makes Bucky feel bold, and he closes the last bit of space between them. “Yeah,” he murmurs, pulling his hands from his hoodie pocket and offering up the left one. “So, may I have this dance?”

“Y-yeah,” Tony squeaks, taking the proffered hand, and clears his throat. “Hey J, wanna give us some tunes?”

Frank Sinatra comes on over the speakers a moment later, and Bucky grins. He quirks a brow at Tony. Tony shrugs, still blushing.

“You lead,” Tony says, nodding towards the empty space. “Foxtrot?”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees easily, and they begin.

They dance through a few songs, and with each one the space between their bodies shrinks, until finally they’re pressed together from chest to thigh. Tony moves gracefully with him, motions smooth and confident. Eventually they’re mostly just swaying to the beat, Bucky’s heart hammering against his ribs. He never wants this to end.

Another song comes on, one Bucky doesn’t recognize and gives him slight pause because it has the twang of that country western stuff Clint seems to enjoy. Only not quite. It’s mellower, and the woman’s voice is strong and the twang is barely noticeable. Not compared to the instrumentals in the background. Bucky’s shocked JARVIS has it playing. He’s even more shocked Tony’s not protesting the selection.

He’s not gonna complain about that, though. It’s not a terrible song, and he’s got Tony in his arms, Tony’s face tucked into his neck and his hand on Tony’s lower back. Anything that keeps Tony there is more than okay with Bucky.

That song ends, goes straight into another one Bucky actually recognizes from all that pop culture catching up he’s been doing with Steve. He thinks this one’s by Elvis, who he’s not all that impressed with. Bucky can make an exception, for  _this_ song. For this moment.

“You’re definitely a better dancer than Steve,” Tony murmurs, pulling back just enough they can look each other in the eye. “Or maybe I’m biased.”

Bucky snorts, eyes tracking over Tony’s face, catching on his mouth. “At least he’s willin’ to dance, now,” he mumbles, eyes flicking back up to Tony’s after another moment of staring at Tony’s lips.

Tony nods, swallowing. “Yeah,” he agrees on an exhale, drawing in a sharp breath. “Please tell me I’m not misreading this.”

His heart skips a beat, tripping all over itself as it starts racing, and Bucky gives a little shake of his head. “You’re not,” he says aloud, just so there’s no misunderstanding. “Can I kiss you?”

“You better,” Tony breathes, and Bucky lets go of his hand to cup the back of Tony’s head and pull him into a kiss.


	19. 31. catching the other before they fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: 31 + stony :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, established relationship, fluff

Steve glares at the keypad contemplatively for a moment, hands full of food and drink. He’s just resigned himself to having to set something down when the workshop doors slide open with a soft  _hiss_  and his ears are assaulted with Tony’s overbearingly loud music. “Thanks, JARVIS,” he says, shooting a smile at the closest camera, and marches forward.

“That’s cheating,” Tony calls over the music, back still to Steve, as he fiddles with something on the boot for his latest armor, and Steve smiles, fond.

Of course Tony’d know he was standing outside the workshop.

“No it’s not,” Steve replies, setting the drink carrier and takeout bag down on the worktable not overrun with gadgets and spare parts and tools.

“Sure it is,” he insists, twists his wrist until he makes a small, triumphant noise, and finally turns to give Steve and the food an assessing look. “Oh! You got my favorite!”

Steve grins and starts pulling food containers from the bag. “Of course I did,” he agrees, glancing up to meet Tony’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t I get my favorite fella his favorite food?”

“Dammit Steve,” Tony grumbles, a delightful blush stealing over his face that makes something warm and happy settle in Steve’s chest. “Sentimental sap.”

“Sure,” Steve agrees, easy, and shakes the container at Tony enticingly. “But if you don’t want this, I can always go find Clint or Thor.”

“Don’t you dare!” Tony squawks, slapping the little screwdriver he’d been holding down on the table top, glaring. “You give my food to anyone not me and you’ll be sleeping all alone for a month!”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Steve says in mock horror. Tony starts towards him, eyes glittering with amusement, and Steve’s smile grows. He holds the container up above his head, and tries not to laugh when Tony narrows his eyes.

“Playing games with me, Rogers?” Tony demands, pouting up at the container.

“I would  _never_ ,” Steve denies, widening his eyes, and lowers the container to set it down on the table before stepping in front of it. “But I don’t think I can give you your food until you give me a kiss.”

“Oh  _really_? I see,” Tony hums, fighting a smile. He starts walking towards Steve, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, and yelps when his foot catches on the leg of the workbench, pitching forward.

Steve jumps and manages to catch Tony around the waist before he can fall on his face.

“Hi,” Steve says goofily, when Tony looks up, wrapping his arms fully around Tony. “So do I get my kiss?”

“Hmph,” Tony huffs, but he’s smiling, and a second later Tony pushes up onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to Steve’s lips.

“Mm,” Steve hums, cupping the back of Tony’s head and deepening it. He pulls away after a couple minutes, admiring the flush high on Tony’s cheeks and the wet, swollen redness of his lips. “Ready for your dinner?”

“Tease,” Tony groans, pressing his face into Steve’s chest. “You’re a  _monster_ , Rogers.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“…Yeah.”


	20. 20. things you said that i wasn't meant to hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: 20 for stuckony, maybe? thank you :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony/bucky, established relationship

Bucky’s looking for Ms. Potts, because he has a question about the charity event he’s supposed to be attending later that evening, when he comes across Steve and Tony. They have their heads bent over the tablet in Tony’s hands, murmuring to each other, and at first Bucky thinks they’re talking about Avengers business. Only, as he draws close enough for his hearing to clearly pick up their whispering, he realizes they’re talking about  _him_.

Neither of them notice him, either. Their attempt at a secret conversation is  _terrible_ , honestly. At least one of them should be keeping an eye out for people. Dumbasses.

( _Ain’t your super soldier serum supposed to be better than mine, Steve?_  Bucky thinks to himself, amused.)

“Buck’s not gonna want anything fancy, sweetheart,” Steve says. “A small party with the Avengers in the afternoon before going back to our floor for a dinner with just us.”

Tony sighs, swipes his finger over the tablet’s screen. “I’m guessing a surprise party would be bad idea, then.”

“Probably,” Steve nods. “We could surprise him with the dinner. He’d never actually  _ask_  to have a separate celebration, just the three of us.”

“Oh, good, I can work with a surprise dinner,” Tony grins, exuberant.

Tony’s smiles always light up his face and make Bucky wanna taste them.

It should probably be embarrassing or something that it takes Bucky a solid minute to figure out they’re talking about  _his birthday_. Except he’s spent decades in and out of cryo tubes as a dehumanized tool, and another couple years running and trying to piece together his fragmented memories. Birthdays weren’t all that high on his list of things he cared about. 

He debates for a moment if he should tease them about trying to plan a surprise birthday dinner, but Tony looks  _so excited_  about it. And, really, it’d be a shame to go and ruin that. He can pretend surprise, if he has to, but maybe if he puts it outta his mind he’ll forget all about it between now and his birthday.

Bucky retreats, silent as ever, waits a minute or two, and starts back in their direction. He makes sure to make some noise, this time, too. The way Tony and Steve pull apart and smile brightly at him sends a surge of affection through Bucky’s veins. The dorks.

“What’re you two talkin’ about all sneaky-like?”

“Nothing!”

“We’re not being sneaky!”

Bucky smiles at them and kisses them both before continuing on his search for Ms. Potts. Steve and Tony stare after him, and Bucky tries not to laugh.


	21. 12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Stony and 12 please!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, fluff, get together

It’s, sadly,  _embarrassingly_ , not the first time Steve finds him passed out somewhere and carries him to bed. Tony doesn’t know how or why it’s always Steve, or how he even manages it without waking Tony up. Thor’s tried it a couple times, and Tony always startles awake. Clint doesn’t bother, thankfully, and actually typically joins Tony where it is he’s passed out. Bruce will shake his shoulder gently and then nudge him towards his room, and Natasha either kicks his feet or throws something at him depending. Sam, Tony thinks, goes to find Steve.

He suspects that’s what happened today.

It  _is_  the first time Tony’s stirred while Steve’s settling him on his bed, though. He’d say something, maybe, except  _Jesus_  he finds this whole thing embarrassing and saying something would be breaking their unspoken agreement to never mention this. So he keeps his mouth shut and bites his tongue when Steve’s fingers card through his hair.

He wonders if Steve does this every time he carries Tony to bed. He wonders why Steve’s even  _doing it what the fuck what’s happening_.

Mostly, though, he wants Steve to  _never stop_.

“What am I gonna do with you, Tony?” Steve murmurs, and his fingers are still in Tony’s hair. “I wish you’d take care of yourself, but then I wouldn’t get to do this, and I hate that.”

Tony should say something. He should crack his eyes open and maybe make a joke. Right? He should, he thinks, he thinks this is something Steve wouldn’t be comfortable with Tony hearing. Even if he  _is_  talking to and about Tony, this is something private.

“Mostly I wish I knew how to tell you that I’d be honored if you let me take care of you,” Steve continues on, quiet and soft and earnest, and Tony’s heart lodges in his throat. “I wish I could just carry you to  _my_  bed and lay down with you, curl around you, hold you close. I don’t know how to tell you that. I never really learned how to, well. It was just Peggy, and then Sharon for awhile, but I never initiated anything, they did.

“I’d ask Bucky for advice, if he were here. He never had any troubles picking up ladies, though… Maybe not, now that I think about it. He’d never let me hear the end of it, either.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else, then, and a moment later dry lips brush lightly over Tony’s forehead. Tony reacts without thinking, sucking in a startled breath even as his hand darts out to grip Steve’s side. Steve gasps and jerks away and Tony curls his fingers tighter in Steve’s t-shirt.

“Stay,” Tony whispers, cracking his eyes open enough to meet Steve’s panicked blue gaze.

“Tony - I, uh,” Steve stammers, swallows, a blush making its way down his throat. 

“Please,” Tony croaks, tugging on Steve’s shirt lightly. “I want you to stay. I - I want that. What you said.”

“Okay,” Steve breathes, eyes bright and fond, and climbs onto the bed beside him.


	22. sleep deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay well. i was super fucking tired the other day and apparently my response was to - instead of going to SLEEP - sleepily write this little drabble. i’m not even sure if i was writing it for a specific ‘verse of mine or what, so i guess you could say this is Schrödinger’s ‘verse. it’s simultaneously none and all of them, wheeeeeeee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony/bucky, fluff, sleepy tony, drabble-drabble

“How long have you been awake?” Bucky demands as he eyes Tony.

Tony frowns, glances down at his empty coffee mug, then to Bucky. He’s in threadbare pajama pants that have a hole in the right knee, and an over sized sweater Bucky suspects he stole from Steve, who stole it from Bucky. The silence drags on as Tony continues to frown.

“I slept for four hours,” he finally answers, though he sounds incredibly uncertain.

“ _When_  did you sleep for four hours?”

That seems to stump Tony, and he squints suspiciously at him. “That’s a trick question.”

“What’s a trick question?” Steve asks, appearing out of his art studio. He stops beside Bucky, and sighs when he sees Tony. “Tony, no more coffee.”

Tony perks up, and then immediately deflates. “No coffee?”

“Nope,” Steve agrees, and moves forward to pluck the coffee cup from Tony’s hands. He sets it in the sink, shoots Bucky a fond smile when Tony makes sad noises at him, and places a gentle hand to the small of Tony’s back, ushering him towards the bedroom. “Sleep.”

“A trap,” Tony mumbles.

Steve huffs, grinning. “We’re not playing word association, sweetheart.”

Bucky follows them all the way to the threshold. He leans against the doorjamb to watch Steve coax Tony into the bed. Steve tucks him in, once he’s settled, and Bucky can’t stop the fond smile from quirking his lips.


	23. no such thing as civil war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Help my dash has been full of new gif sets of sad posts from Civil war I dont want sad Stuckony on my dash but that's all I'm seeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony/bucky, get together, pining, light angst, established steve/bucky

Tony shuffles from his bedroom, wrapped up in the fuzzy blanket Pepper bought him for Christmas three years ago, the one with the Captain America shield emblazoned across it. He’s sleepy and he wants coffee, but when he gets to the kitchen Steve’s sitting at the table looking worse for wear and Tony bites down on the immediate desire to just  _run_. Their fight, the words they’d hurled at each other, is still ringing in his ears. He wants to run, but Steve hasn’t even noticed his presence and he just looks so  _heart broken_. 

It hurts Tony’s heart just as much as their fight did.

It hurts maybe even more because Bucky’s still angry with the both of them. After breaking up their fight, after reprimanding them both, he’d gone to the room Tony’d given him two years ago when he’d first shown up at the tower, the room he hadn’t bothered with in ten months. Tony guesses he’s glad Bucky has a neutral place to retreat to, but still.

Steve looks up, suddenly, and Tony freezes beneath his gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed. Tony swallows thickly, throat dry and his own eyes burning a little. Steve’s eyebrows draw together in concern, and Tony can just imagine what his own face is doing.

“Hey,” he says weakly, fingers tightening in his blanket.

“Hi, Tony,” Steve replies, voice soft and sad. His eyes flick over Tony, head to toe, then settles on Tony’s hands clenched in the blanket, keeping it around his shoulders. “Here for coffee?”

“Ah, yeah,” Tony agrees, shrugs awkwardly, “you know me.”

“Mm,” Steve hums and pushes his chair away from the table, standing up. “Have you even been to sleep?” He asks as he walks over to the counter with the coffee pot.

“Could ask you the same question,” Tony frowns at his back. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says with a shrug. “I tried, but it’s…hard, knowing that Bucky’s not there, that he’s angry with me.”

Tony hunches his shoulders, feeling like he’s kicked a puppy. “Sorry.”

“That’s not your fault,” Steve sighs, pulling a mug from the cabinet and pouring coffee into it.

“It’s a little my fault,” Tony says, frustrated. “But fine. …I’m sorry, for our fight.”

Steve turns around, blue eyes wide. “Tony,” he starts, exhales harshly through his nose, and shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault, Tony. You were just trying to help, and I took out my frustrations on you.”

“But - ”

“Bucky and I were already - Bucky and I had had a fight about something a few hours before our fight,” Steve sighs, and carries the coffee cup over to the table where he sets it closer to Tony, like he thinks Tony won’t accept it if he’d tried handing it to him. That was a fair assessment, but it makes something like shame curl up in Tony’s gut.

“Oh.”

Steve nods, and sits back down. “You knew I was upset, and you were just trying to cheer me up. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did, you didn’t have the slightest clue I’d bite your head off.”

Tony chokes out a small laugh, and shakes his head. “No, I’m pretty used to that. I wear on people’s nerves. I’m an acquired taste.”

“No, Tony, that’s not okay,” Steve says fiercely, “you’re not an acquired taste. Sure you annoy people, but everyone gets on everyone’s nerves every once in  awhile.”

“Cap - ”

“I just, I’m sorry, Tony. I’m sorry for taking my frustration out on you, you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry for what I said to you. I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt, me? As if.”

“Tony, please.”

Tony ducks his head, and finally shuffles into the kitchen, toward the table and the coffee Steve poured for him. “You were already forgiven, Steve.”

Steve sucks in a startled breath, and Tony glances up to meet his eyes briefly before taking a seat in the chair across from him. Steve shakes his head, eyes dark and fathomless, and not for the first time Tony mentally screams at himself because Steve is  _taken_. So is Bucky. They’re  _both taken_. By each other.

(Tony’s heart doesn’t seem to have gotten that memo.)

“You’re somethin’ else, Tony,” Steve says, voice full of disbelief. “I said some terrible things, how can you just forgive me?”

Tony sighs and lets go of his grip on the blanket to wrap his hands around the coffee cup. “You seem to forget I gave as good as I got.”

“Tony - ”

“After Bucky sent us to our corners and I cooled off, I knew immediately that whatever that was, it hadn’t been about me,” Tony interrupts. “What hurt more is the fact that you’d rather pick a fight with me than trust me with what was bothering you. We’re  _friends_ , Steve, I care about you. That means when you’re upset, I wanna help.”

Steve’s face is crumpling, and anxiety crawls up Tony’s throat because he doesn't know what he’s done  _wrong_  this time, doesn’t understand why Steve looks like Tony’s just destroyed his whole world.

“Oh, Tony,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve - ”

“Bucky and I were arguing over something,” Steve interrupts him, his eyes locked onto his hands where they’re resting on top of the table, “that when you get down to it, we both ultimately agree about. He thinks I’m being a moron, and he’s not really wrong.”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Tony says.

Steve chuckles a little. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you mind me asking what you two were arguing about?”

“Not - not really. I don’t wanna tell you though,” he winces a little, “I’m afraid you’ll take it the wrong way, and I don’t want you to do that.”

“That sounds pretty ominous, Steve,” Tony jokes, tries to joke, but it falls a little flat.

“It’s not bad,” Steve replies, tone reassuring. “It’s really not. I just. I didn’t think I was ready for what he was sayin’, and then - I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony gives a little nod, accepting that Steve’s not going to elaborate further, and lifts the cup up to take a drag of the coffee. It’s perfect, exactly the way Tony takes it, and his heart aches with how much he loves this man sitting across from him.

There’s a noise behind him, and Steve’s face shutters when he sees whoever it is. Tony’s pretty sure he  _knows_  who it is - there aren’t many people capable of making Steve look that way - but he turns around to look. Sure enough Bucky’s there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Tony can’t tell what he’s thinking, his face more or less expressionless as he stares at the two of them, and that makes Tony a little bit nervous.

“JARVIS says you two made up,” Bucky finally says after a drawn out moment of awkward silence.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, and his voice is a little hoarse.

“Good,” Bucky smiles then, small and soft and reassuring, and suddenly Tony feels like he’s intruding on something incredibly private.

“Yep,” Tony proclaims, and starts to stand up from his seat, “our epic friendship will live to see another day!”

“Where d’you think you’re goin’?” Bucky asks, pushing himself away from the wall.

“I - back to the workshop?” Tony hesitates, glancing between the two. “So you two can have some privacy. I hear you two have some kissing and making up to do yourselves.”

“Steve,” Bucky growls,  _growls_ , in a voice so exasperated Tony’s amazed it’s not being directed at him, honestly.

“I was workin’ up to it!” Steve protests, and Tony is officially lost.

“Uh, guys, what am I missing here? Let me tell you, I don’t often miss much, and missing stuff is not a feeling I enjoy.”

Bucky turns his glare on Tony, but before he can shrink away from it Bucky’s gaze softens and he shakes his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You miss more than you think, sweet pea.”

“Um,” Tony’s eyebrows shoot up, and he turns to look at Steve questioningly. “Why did your boyfriend of the ages call me sweet pea?”

Steve blushes, and that just. That floors Tony. He knows what he’d  _like_  for this to mean, what it’s really beginning to sound like, but that can’t. They couldn’t possibly - They have  _each other_ , what do they need Tony for?

Bucky snorts and saunters further into the kitchen, until he’s right in Tony’s space where he’s still half-seated in the kitchen chair. He reaches out with his metal hand to cup Tony’s jaw, turns his head gently back towards him, and Tony blinks up at him.

“I don’t know why Stevie’s bein’ such a fuckin’ chicken about this,” Bucky says softly as his thumb strokes along Tony’s jawline, “but he  _is_  and I’m gettin’ real tired of waitin’. You ain’t been with Ms. Potts since before I showed up, and I’m not blind.”

“I - I - You just - ”

“I didn’t wanna pressure him,” Steve interjects, sounding much closer than he should’ve. When Tony looks, Steve’s right there, in his space too, and hope’s burning white-hot in his chest, just behind the arc  reactor.

“No, a’course not, but there’s a difference between no pressure and just point blank not sayin’ a damn thing,” Bucky rolls his eyes, but it’s filled with such affection.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve smiles, then focuses his attention wholly on Tony. 

“C’mon, guys,” Tony says, soft and a little bit pleading because his heart is in his throat and they’ve got him on tenterhooks and he just wants - 

He  _wants_.

“I’m sweet on you,” Steve tells him, voice serious and full of affection. “I have been for quite a long while.”

Tony blinks. His heart skips several beats, enough so that he presses a hand to the arc reactor in slight concern. He almost doesn’t believe it, believe that this is happening, but Steve’s expression is so earnest and open, and really he’s a terrible fucking liar where it counts.

“I am too,” Bucky adds when Tony doesn’t say anything, “for the record. We’re both real sweet on you, honey.”

“Is - Ah, is this a dream?” Tony manages after another moment, voice breaking and catching in the middle.

Bucky huffs out a little laugh and shakes his head. “Nope, definitely not a dream, sweet pea.”

“Nice to know you’ve dreamt about this,” Steve adds, smile gentle and eyes warm and fond. “But you’re awake, sweetheart, and we mean it. We’d like to take you on dates, call you our fella, if you want it. Want us.”

“I - Yes,  _yes_ , absolutely, of course I want that, the both of you, with the both of you,” Tony babbles.

The smiles they both give him are  _radiant_. Steve steps even closer, and Bucky uses his still gentle grip on Tony’s jaw to draw him to his feet. Tony makes a noise he’ll deny ever left his mouth later as Steve gets a grip on Tony’s shoulders, turning him so they’re once more facing each other. Bucky’s hand moves down to his waist, then his other, and then he’s pressed up along Tony’s back, his mouth pressing chaste little kisses to the nape of Tony’s neck.

“There you are, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs nonsensically, and cups Tony’s face with both of his hands. He just stares for a minute, eyes flicking all over Tony’s face before settling on his lips.

“You gonna kiss me, Rogers?” Tony asks hoarsely, and Steve chuckles softly before doing  _just that_.


	24. pizza woes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous said: Hi! I had a shit day followed by a hellish drive home (what normally takes 30mins took 90 😣) I know ur prob stressed to the max w OT but if you get a min and get inspired how abt some unmitigated fluff w someone comforting tony in the wake of bad news. Like that his fave coffee is being discontinued or his fave band is retiring or something like that not "real" bad news. Hope ur day was better than mine!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve/tony, preslash, fluff, hurt/comfort

Steve wanders out of his bedroom, freshly showered after his morning run, to find Tony sitting on the couch. That, in itself, isn’t unusual. Tony can be spotted in all sorts of places, working off his tablet or cellphone. He can also be found asleep places no one should be asleep. Like the kitchen counter. Or the linen closet. But what’s unusual, this time, is the distinct  _lack_  of tablet or cellphone or anything else, and the very much awake state of being.

“Tony?” Steve calls out softly, and walks around the couch until he’s standing in front of the man.

“Hmm?” Tony hums, absently, and continues to stare out the window. Steve turns to see if he can spot whatever it is Tony’s looking at, then turns back to Tony, concerned, when all he sees are other buildings and the occasional pigeon. 

“You okay?”

“No,” Tony answers instantly, brow furrowing. “Definitely not. The worst has happened.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot upwards, and he joins Tony on the couch, reaching out to squeeze Tony’s arm comfortingly. “What happened?”

Tony turns towards Steve, looking solemn. “My favorite pizza joint closed,” he explains sadly. “I offered to buy it but the owner said the sauce recipe was a family secret and she wasn’t comfortable with letting anyone else have it.”

“Ah,” Steve winces sympathetically. “That’s too bad, Tony.”

“Mm, yes,” Tony agrees.

Steve lets his hand fall away from Tony’s arm, and they sit together for a few moments in silence, awkwardly, before Steve huffs at himself. He’s never been good at comforting people, but he figures, well, Tony’s pretty tactile even if he acts like he’s not, so he can’t really go wrong with sort of cuddling on the couch, can he?  He scoots closer, wraps his arm around Tony’s shoulders, and pulls him into his side.

Tony makes a soft, startled, questioning noise, but settles into the new position without a fight – leans into Steve actually, presses closer. Steve smiles a little, fond and warm, affection burning bright beneath his breast bone, and he tightens his arm around Tony’s shoulders. It’s nice, it’s very nice, and Steve’s just – he’s  _grateful_ , really, that Tony’s letting him do this. That he’s not – not scoffing or shaking Steve off.

Probably he would be, if it were, if this was – if something  _truly_  terrible had happened, if some unspeakable, heartbreaking thing had happened. Steve’s more than aware of it, the contradictory way Tony behaves. He’s  _seen_  it, more than once. But a pizza place closing, the worst thing to happen, in Tony’s own words, and sure, it’s plenty disappointing – if it’s the one Steve’s thinking it is, he’ll be sad about that too, later – but hardly the end of the world, but it’s – this is something Tony will accept comfort for. 

He’s got a theory, about it, and it’s – Steve doesn’t much like thinking about it, because it hurts him, an ache deep down, but. He’s got this theory, that these little things, that Tony allows himself comfort over these small things, but it’s not – the comfort, for Tony, isn’t actually about the small things. Steve suspects Tony accepts the comfort, soaks it up, for all the other things he  _won’t_  allow himself to be comforted over. It breaks Steve’s heart.

“I’ve been trying,” Tony says, after a bit, pulling Steve from his thoughts, “I’ve been thinking, trying to come up with a solution. The owner, she’s a little older than me, right? She wants to retire, and her kids, none of them want to take over the shop, so she can’t pass it on to them. She said – it’s the sauce, y’know? It’s the sauce that makes the pizza something else, out of this world, really, and it’s her family’s recipe. She said it’s been passed down for generations, and only her family knows it. Said it’d break decades of tradition and secrecy, to tell it to someone not family, so. What’s there to do, when your kids aren’t interested in taking over the family business? Close shop, that’s what. What solution is there to  _that_?”

“Sucks,” Steve says, with a slight grimace, quietly berating himself.  _Sucks? Really, Rogers, that’s the best you can do?_  he thinks.

Tony snorts softly, a quiet little thing, startled and fond sounding. “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he agrees, and relaxes completely into Steve’s side then, lets his head rest on Steve’s shoulder. “I gave her a twenty thousand dollar donation, when I bought a pie at lunch. Should do her retirement good, I think.”

“Jesus, Tony,” Steve murmurs, and smiles, awed, warmth spreading through him, affection and fondness for this ridiculous man sitting beside him.

“What?” Tony frowns, tilts his head against Steve’s shoulder to look at his face, concerned. “Should I have given her a bit more?”

“I think twenty thousand is more than enough, mister,” Steve mutters fondly, with a little shake of his head.

“Hmm, I dunno,” he grumbles, but settles again.

“You wanna watch a movie? Clint mentioned some weird British movie about a guy called Monty Python? Had something to do with the Holy Grail.”

Tony laughs, a startled burst of air that shakes his shoulders beneath Steve’s arm, and he covers his eyes with a hand, hiding the way they crinkle up. Steve grins, pleased, even as he wishes Tony wouldn’t hide away like that. Genuine laughter, real amusement,  _joy_ , lighting up Tony’s eyes, crinkling them in the corner, his nose scrunching up? It’s damn beautiful, always makes Steve’s fingers itch for his pens, but really, he’s glad he gets to hear it, at least, if Tony won’t let him see.

“Yeah,” Tony manages, when his giggles finally die down a bit, “yeah we can watch that movie. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen it, and, really, I can’t wait to see  _your_  reaction to it. That’ll be more interesting to watch, I bet, even. J, queue up  _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ , please, buddy?”

“Certainly, Sir.”

“This isn’t going to be the kind of thing like when Clint tricked me into watching that horrifying movie, uh,  _The Human Centipede?”_ Steve asks, warily, and shudders.

“Oh,” Tony chokes, laughing all over again, and shakes his head. “No, no, not at all. Oh, hell, I almost forgot about that!”

“It was horrifying,” Steve says, scowling. “Clint deserved the sparring practice for that.”

“He really did,” he agrees.

The movie starts up, then, drawing their attention to the tv. Ten minutes in, they’re both laughing, bright and loud, and when Steve glances over to Tony, he thinks maybe today’s attempt has been a success. Tony meets his gaze, eyes sparkling, smiles, a little bemused, before turning back to the movie.

Yeah, Steve’s going to count this one as a success.


End file.
